


a sea for its storms

by MooksMookin, spacegirlkj



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Emetophobia, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mindbreak, Physical Torture, Porn With Plot, Psychological Torture, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, no miyacest here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 63,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22689961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooksMookin/pseuds/MooksMookin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegirlkj/pseuds/spacegirlkj
Summary: What becomes of Hinata after being captured by twin princes of a rival country.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu/Miya Osamu, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Osamu
Comments: 161
Kudos: 1081





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> **This is meant for a mature audience. If you aren’t mentally (or physically) mature enough to distinguish fiction from reality, then this fic is not meant for you. By clicking on this fic and proceeding to read it you consent to reading its contents, as per the AO3 content warning system. We take no responsibility for any negative reactions brought on by this fic.**
> 
> Some possible FAQs:  
> \- "Is this OOC?" Possibly, but that’s just our interpretation. The au was started over a year ago, before Atsumu’s character developed to be a little less assholish.  
> \- "Is this Miyacest?" No, but they fuck Hinata at the same time so if you're not a fan of that this may not be for you.  
> \- “This is disgusting!” Then don’t read it. Seriously, why have you read this far? Didn’t you see the tags?

The Inarizaki Dynasty is a land of vibrant hues. The heat of the high summer air is humid, clinging to Hinata’s skin as he weaves in and out of the beautiful district at the heart of the nation’s capital. So close to the palace, everything glimmers, the roads growing wider, cobbled with smooth granite, the lush greenery bursting from gardens on every corner. Hinata pulls his shall closer around his face, happy that his stature makes him blend into the crowd. His main goal, after all, is to get into the palace unseen.

His home country of Karasuno is far away, nestled between the mountains to the north. A fast growing but relatively new empire, it struggles in every way a nation would— gaining trade routes and allies, keeping its people afloat. While strong relations with other nations nearby have allowed for the country to get the bare minimum of traded goods, Karasuno remains a landlocked country, shut out from the empire controlling the coast. Without access to water, his country could never become a larger player in the politics surrounding the continent. But Inarizaki could be the solution to it all.

Situated south of allied territory, Inarizaki runs along either side of a great canal emptying into the bay of the southern ocean. Its temperate climate and rich riverbank soil is teeming with agriculture and wild harvests, its cities advanced and unlike anything in the mountains, and its position making it a force to be reckoned with. To become allied with them would be Karasuno’s step into a life larger than a mountain nation, but, for all of their attempts at diplomacy, no agreement could be reached. The Inarizaki Dynasty and its rulers, the twin princes, saw no benefit from their treaties, and through botched dealings and misspoken words, the relationship soured beyond compare.

Hinata didn’t come to Inarizaki to mend the bond between two nations who never saw eye to eye in the first place. He came as a spy, as an informant, to infiltrate their castle and gain the leverage needed to get his country what they needed to survive. As dangerous a mission it is, Hinata was the sole candidate. Small, fast, and charming, he alone was able to slip through the border and make his way into the capital undetected. Getting caught isn’t an option— not if he wishes to see another day.

Hinata looks up at the palace in front of him, at the smooth marble construction and dazzling gardens surrounding it. He’s already spotted the servants on their way back, horses pulling carts of goods to be taken to the kitchens for the night’s meal. With a light step, he steps onto the back, hunching down so that the driver in front doesn’t see him among the barrels tangerines and oranges. From there, he lies in wait, watching as the bustle vanishes, the caravan turning as they head towards the back of the palace, where no doubt the servant’s entrance awaits. The horses whinny a split second before the stop, and in the moment before the driver steps off, Hinata jumps and enters the opposite way, circling the carriage until he can safely enter.

Time passes slowly as he navigates the kitchens and attempts to find passageways towards the main palace. In his simple garb, he doesn’t look out of place yet, merely another hand meant to help someone or another. Up he goes, climbing tiny staircases and dumb waiters until he’s met with the sight of deep red walls and polished marble floors. Looking both ways, Hinata steps out, taking in his surroundings. Large windows lay opposite of him, overlooking the gardens from a height that makes Hinata assume he must’ve made it to one of the higher floors. With renewed determination, he continues walking down the hall, fiddling with the set of lock picking tools in his pockets.

The first door he tries is unlocked, leading to nothing but a tearoom with little interesting features. The second takes a minute to open— a modest bedroom furnished in elegant finery, likely belonging to an official close to the princes. To its immediate left is a study, unlocked from inside the bed chambers, walls lined with books, desk sorted meticulously so that no paper lies out of place. Unlocking the drawers is a harder task, but worthwhile for the information it provides. Hinata picks up a letter, unfurling it to read the plain handwriting.

_To my dearest Shinsuke,_

_Your grandfather and I miss you terribly—_

Hinata stops reading, instantly pocketing the note. The name is one he was told to look out for— Kita Shinsuke, the royal advisor to the princes. Sweat beads at the bottom of Hinata’s neck as he realizes the gold mine he’s struck in his first pass of the castle, urging him on despite the growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Most of the letters are written in a jargon he can’t understand, detailed correspondence with officials within the Dynasty rather than outside of it. One particular note strikes him though, signed by the leader of another nation, detailing intricate trade routes between Inarizaki and other countries.

 _So they do have open trade with our allies,_ Hinata notes, pocketing the note along with the others. If that’s the case, then it’s obvious they had lied to Karasuno during their earlier dealings— that alone should be enough to sway the tides in their favour.

Hinata relocks each drawer, quick to leave the room and move on. The hallways are as empty as he left them, but the sun has moved to hang lower in the sky, the days here a different length than he is used to. Biting his lip, Hinata quickly walks through the halls, opening up the dumb waiter he came in only to find it out of place, already at another location. At that moment, footsteps echo from down the hall, the murmur of voices bouncing off of the stone floors.

Without thinking, Hinata continues walking, sharply rounding a corner to find a flight of stairs. It’s as he reaches the bottom that he spots them— two guards in full armour, patrolling the halls at a slow, cautious pace. Hinata freezes where he stands, not making a noise in hopes that their eyes will glance over him. They almost do— he’s on the last step before the guard looks back, just in time to see Hinata land at the bottom of the stairs.

“Excuse me, what is your business in the palace?” the guard asks, taking a step closer.

Hinata’s heart beats rapidly in his ears. There’s only one choice left if he wants to make it out of here alive, and even then, his odds are slim.

In one smooth motion, Hinata reaches into his pocket and grabs one of his two daggers, throwing it at the second of the two guards. It manages to lodge itself between his armor, but the momentary distraction is all Hinata needs to begin sprinting, following pure instinct as the shout of the guard behind him echoes throughout the palace.

“Armed intruder in the east corridor!” he shouts. “Apprehend at all costs!”

Hinata skids around a second corner, finding another set of stairs. Already climbing them are another set of guards, swords drawn and at the ready. Hinata’s stomach drops, breath growing shorter as the situation grows more and more dire. With the stairs blocked off, the only way to go is forward, deeper into the castle, down another hall. 

He yanks his second dagger from his belt, holding it at his side as he runs past paintings and tapestries, letting the blade sink into them and slash apart their forms. He knocks over vases and flowerpots, the clatter of ceramic following him as he runs without knowing where he’s heading, footsteps growing louder and louder behind him. He skids down another staircase and comes face to face with the blade of a sword, missing his face by the width of a hair. It catches on his shawl and exposes his face, tearing the fabric off and sending it flying across the floor. Hinata ducks down to avoid the impact of the blade as the guard swings at him again, kicking his feet out to knock them over. He manages to sink his dagger into the guard’s thigh, the wound eliciting the reaction he wanted— the guard drops their sword, leaving it for Hinata to take. As he turns towards where he came, he’s faced with the rest of the guards that had chased him, a half dozen beginning to circle him as he holds out the weapon in front of him.

For all of his training, Hinata has never been prepared for this. He fights like a mad dog set loose, unsure what to do besides wound and slip past, held back by sheer numbers if nothing else. The hilt of one sword is driven into the centre of his back, sending him down to his knees as a slash to his wrist has his sword clattering to the floor beside him. Just like that, he’s pushed to the ground, hands and ankles bound behind him, held down by two men much larger than himself.

“What should we do with him?” one asks as more footsteps come rushing by. “Have the princes been alerted?”

“They have,” another voice says, wavering slightly. “I was just sent from the throne room— they’ve already cleared it of everyone but the high court. They want to see the intruder themselves.”

One of the men holding Hinata whistles, pushing down a little harder on him. “You have another thing comin’ for you, boy. Hope whatever you were doin’ was worth it.”

With that, he’s hoisted upright and dragged forwards, unable to walk in his current position. He drags his heels into the ground and shouts, makes a racket that has the two guards gripping his wounded arm tighter, blood staining his sleeves. He tries to escape in vain, still fighting even as they descend another level, entering the grand hallway of the palace, with its domed ceilings and mirrored walls. Hinata can’t take in its majesty, too focused on the fact that he’s _failed—_ his nation, his king, his friends, his family. In moments, he’ll be killed, blood splattered on the floor for some poor man to clean, story never told.

It’s oddly calming amidst the fear that coursing rapidly through him, to know that this won’t last much longer— that it’ll soon be done. Hinata closes his eyes, and breathes out of his nose. He won’t give the princes the satisfaction of his tears. He’ll die without saying a word.

The doors to the throne room open with a low creek, reverberating endlessly down the hall. He’s dragged forwards, feet catching on the edge of a rug as he enters the throne room. Hinata opens his eyes to take in his surroundings— columns of white marble and gold, shimmering chandeliers, and a line of knights in full battle garb lining the walls. His eyes slowly drift up the room, to the well dressed court officials who stand to the side of a platform elevating two mirrored thrones. Hinata steels himself as he looks up to the two sitting upon them— the twin princes, rulers of the Dynasty. Their elaborate regalia includes white shirts with ruffled sleeves, studded earrings and golden necklaces, and shimmering red threads embroidering the emblem of Inarizaki onto their lapel. Miya Atsumu and Osamu stare down at him with apathetic expressions, legs crossed, deep maroon capes thrown over opposite shoulders, reaching down to their feet.

Hinata gulps, and is thrown to his knees. 

“Well,” Osamu says, finally breaking the terse silence in the room. “Nice of you to finally pay us a visit. Can someone tell me _how_ you managed to enter the castle?”

“The kitchen’s entrance, your majesty,” one of the guards beside him says. “Servants reported seein’ him shortly after we apprehended him. He didn’t seem to go very far— only into Advisor Kita’s study. There was an emblem of the high court of Karasuno in his pocket, and what he stole is already bein’ returned. Minimal damage was sustained.”

Atsumu purses his lips, leaning onto the arm of his chair. His crown sits low on his forehead, coming to a point between his eyebrows where a large diamond shimmers, catching the light cast within the throne room. He rolls his eyes as his brother speaks again.

“Bring the prisoner closer,” Osamu commands, voice still level, flat. Hinata winces as he’s jerked upwards, holding his wounded arm closer to himself as he’s thrown down at the royal’s feet. “Explain yourself.” 

Slowly, he raises his head, blood pounding in his ears as he looks up at the twins in front of him. He bites his tongue, weighing his options and the marginal chance at mercy. With a deep, shaking inhale, Hinata raises his chin and spits up at them, no words to be shared.

The reaction of the guards is immediate, drawing their weapons to reprimand him for what Hinata can only assume is a grave act of disrespect. Surprisingly, Atsumu raises his hand, halting their advance as he leans forwards to loom over Hinata.

“What was that?” he asks, expression darkening into a sneer. “A pitiful act of defiance in the face of your own failure? Or do you _want_ to die?”

Hinata barely has time to regret his actions, unable to react before Atsumu reaches out to grab his jaw, pulling him closer and lifting him up towards him. His breath stills, Atsumu’s gaze heavy over his face as his sneer turns into a smile void of any joy, nails digging into Hinata’s skin.

“What a waste,” he mutters, looking over his shoulder at Osamu. Hinata flicks his gaze to the other prince, chilled by the matching smile adorning his once stoney face, eyes shadowed by a kind of darkness that he could’ve never expected. 

Osamu drags his fingertips along the arm of his throne, looking away from Atsumu to address the guards at the edge of the platform. “Take him to the dungeons,” he says, snapping his fingers. Hinata’s eyes widen, confused at the seeming leniency at their decision.

His attention is drawn back to Atsumu as he drops his hold, letting Hinata fall down for the guards to grab. “We’ll be dealin’ with him personally,” he adds, kicking his foot out to smack Hinata in the cheek before he’s pulled away. 

Hinata yanks against the guard’s hold, blood seeping deeper into his shirt as he twists his arms in their grasp. He bites back his winces, his cries, squeezing his eyes shut as he’s carried out of the throne room, a bag thrown over his head as they begin their descent to the dungeons below. 

_So much for a quick death._

—

A few hours pass in the dark, damp cell, completely alone. Candles light the space beyond the iron bars, casting long shadows into the cell where Hinata sits, wrists cuffed together behind his back and chained to the ground. The bleeding from his arm has stopped, the wound not much more than a shallow cut to the flesh. The pain from it is negligent to the emotional terror of waiting for the princes to reappear, to wander down the long, dark hall and finish him off. His stomach sours, twisting in on itself as he tries to remember what he did this for, the sacrifices he made. It’s a kind of reflection that leads him nowhere but staring blankly at the stone, wondering if he had done something differently, he would still be where he is now.

His train of thought is broken by the distant rattle of keys, the _click_ of shoes on solid stone. Hinata straightens his back, shuffling as far forwards as the chains allow to peer beyond the bars and watch as the two figures of Miya Osmau and Atsumu approach. They’ve discarded much of their elaborate garb, capes gone, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, but still wear their crowns, still wear their Dynasty’s crest close to their heart as they approach. Hinata backs away from the bars, sitting back onto his heels as Osamu pulls out the keys and unlocks the door. His eyes follow them as they enter, not bothering to close the door behind them as they begin to slowly circle Hinata, not unlike vultures circling a corpse waiting to die.

“Let’s start small, why don’t we?” Atsumu says, stopping in front of him. “Tell us your name.”

Hinata huffs, biting his lip. “Didn’t know you needed that to kill me,” he says, tired of holding his tongue.

Atsumu laughs, sharp and bitter, throwing his head back before surging forwards to slug Hinata across the cheek. He’s knocked to the side with no hands to catch himself, and takes a few moments to sit back up. “That’s cute. Did’ya hear that, ‘Samu? He thinks we’re gonna kill him.”

Osamu hums, watching Hinata spit blood onto the floor. “How naive,” he echoes. “Why don’t you tell us your name? You’re gonna be here awhile. I’d like to call you something other than _bitch_ from time to time.”

The curse is punctuated by a sharp kick to his gut, one that makes Hinata double over as his breath is knocked out of his lungs. He struggles to catch his breath, wheezing for a moment before looking up at the twins and gritting his teeth. “Hinata Shouyou. Nice to meet you, _your highnesses.”_

“Hinata Shouyou of Karasuno,” Osamu says, stepping forwards. His eyes are empty as they stare down at Hinata, cold and unreadable. “An emblem of the high court of Karasuno, hm? Only attainable with the king’s favour…”

“I w-won’t tell you why I was sent,” Hinata says, stammering beyond his control. 

Atsumu snorts. “You think we don’t already know? You were stealin’ trade routes— of _course_ Karasuno wants to stick their hands into our waters. I just didn’t expect their spy to get into the castle.”

“So now what?” Hinata asks. “You rub it in my face that I lost before getting rid of me?”

Osamu clicks his tongue. “‘Tsumu, he _still_ thinks we’re killin’ him,” he says. “What’s the point of gettin’ rid of our new play thing so soon?”

Hinata’s heart sinks. “Play thing?” he repeats, not quite understanding what he’s hearing.

He’s met with a sharp kick to the chest, knocking him onto his stomach. Atsumu steps down onto the centre of his spine, digging in his heel. “Don’t fuckin’ speak if you ain’t spoken to,” he spits. He draws back his foot and kicks Hinata’s side again, colliding with his hip. Hinata hisses out of his teeth, attempting to pull himself up only to be held down again, this time, Atsumu stepping on his bound wrists. 

“Oh, is he bleedin’?” Osamu comments, kneeling down at Hinata’s side. He reaches out to the bloodstain on Hinata’s arm, wrapping his hand around the wound and digging his nails into the half formed clot. Hinata cries out, eyes snapping open as the sting rushes up his arm. He doesn’t stop, continuing to twist against the wound until Hinata is panting, sweat beading at his neck, shaking as he tries to pull away. Laughter surrounds him, and Osamu grabs the back of his head, fingers twisting in his hair as he yanks Hinata’s head back and holds him in place. 

“Not so cocky now, hm?” Atsumu jeers, aiming a kick for Hinata’s ribs. They _pop_ unnaturally, the sensation raising the hair on that back of Hinata’s neck. “You’re just another failure to add to the list. Nothin’ special at all.”

Osamu pushes Hinata’s face into the stone, hard enough that his visions blacks out for a moment. A slow gush of blood dribbles from his nose, slicking over top of his lips as he wheezes, finding it hard to breathe as his chest is battered. The hands on him leave suddenly, causing Hinata to look up in a vain attempt to anticipate their attack just as he's pulled back by the chains behind him. He’s thrown uncomfortably on his back, leaning on his side and he tries to work his hands out from under him, the cool metal of the chain digging into his skin. He blinks away the spots in his vision to see Atsumu and Osamu above him, looking down at his disheveled form. 

Atsumu spits, the saliva landing by Hinata’s cheek. “Aw, I thought he’d be cryin’ by now,” he sighs, nudging Hinata’s swollen cheek with his shoe. Hinata inhales deeply, trying not to show how close he is to tears. There’s a disorientating kind of hopelessness settling within him as time passes, one that feeds on the lulls in the pain as he’s watched by the twins. Atsumu lands another kick, this time directly aimed at his stomach, and another in quick succession. Hinata can’t help but gag, retching as a third kick hits him. Not much comes up but bile, but he chokes as it does, coughing and falling over onto his front in attempt not to suffocate. 

One of the princes stamps down on his back as he begins to gag again, unable to catch his breath. Hinata tastes blood as he writhes under his hold. It hurts— aching from the inside out, heart pounding against his ribs. The adrenaline coursing through his veins sickens him to the core. He gasps in a desperate attempt to catch his breath, lips scraping against the rough hewn stone. Another blow lands on his cheek as he’s kicked, knocking his jaw painfully to the side, pulling against the joint with his skull. He bites down on his cheek as he falls to the side, blood now coating his lips as it seeps through his spit and onto the ground. Hinata can feel tears involuntarily welling at his eyes, the pain becoming too much to handle.

“Oh? Did that do the trick?” Osamu asks, pulling Hinata back up by the chains. The metal digs into Hinata’s wrists as he sits, still struggling to straighten his back. Slowly, he manages to meet Osamu’s half lidded glare, his lazy smile, Hinata’s own eyes brimming with tears as he glares, defiance unseen through an unconscious tremble.

Atsumu peers from around his twin’s shoulder, grabbing Hinata by the hair and holding his head higher. “Ain’t he pretty, cryin’ like a bitch?”

Osamu hums, leaning forwards. His fingertips slide up the underside of Hinata’s chin, swiping away a spittle of blood. “Pathetic,” he whispers, smearing the blood across Hinata’s cheek. He drops Hinata’s chin and slaps him across the face, taking a step back as Atsumu kicks Hinata’s stomach again.

A groan of pain rumbles through Hinata as he gags again, stomach contracting in on itself. Tears splatter off of his cheeks and onto the ground. With no release in sight, Hinata is left to grovel, holding back his cries as Atsumu jerks his head by the strands of his hair. He can hear laughter, distant, as if a world away, no time to brace for the impact of his fist to his cheek. His vision goes black before his head even hits the ground, world fading away in the comfort of darkness.

—

Three days pass before Hinata sees the princes, or any other person. No longer chained by his wrists, Hinata lays tethered with the same wrought iron by his ankles. He doesn’t remember it being changed, likely done while he was unconscious after the beating. What little mobility he gains is useless— he can only slump against the walls and wait. With each day, his wounds begin to heal, but his only hunger grows. The ache of bruises and scrapes is replaced by the pangs that pierce him from the inside. Even with the water that trickles from a rusted tap, Hinata can’t help but long for something to _eat._

Yet, when Hinata hears footsteps echoing down the hall, he rushes to the back of the cell, jerking the chain to the edge of its tether. He’s beyond exhausted, but his body quickly begins to panic at the sight of Osamu approaching with a small bowl in his hand. Hinata’s shoulders tense as he’s ogled from the otherside of the bars. Osamu drags the key along each post, the solid iron reverberating like some kind of rusted instrument. The keys jingle as he unlocks the door and hangs them on the outside before he enters. Upon his face is a kind of amusement that makes Hinata cower, inferiority burning in his gut on instinct. 

“There’s nowhere for you to hide, Hinata,” Osamu says, crouching down to place the bowl on the floor. “But I ain’t leavin’ ‘till you eat, and I ain’t bringin’ your dinner any closer.” 

Hinata stays flattened against the wall, already panicking. He wants so badly to grab the food, to _eat,_ but even though his mouth doesn’t taste like iron, the bruises on his ribcage are still black. He knows intimately what Osamu is capable of, can feel his stomach contracting at the thought. What good is eating if it’s thrown up soon after? 

“Don’t be scared,” Osamu says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his long overcoat. “I won’t bite.”

The apathy in his tone makes it sound like a lie. But Hinata is hungry, and the bowl is _so close,_ close enough that he crawls forward in his own desperation for food. The chain clatters against the ground, ringing in Hinata’s ears as he grabs the bowl and pulls it into his lap. It’s only rice, but after three days of nothing, Hinata eats it without complaint. He scoops it up with his bare hands, no mind for the dried blood beneath his nails. The grains stick to his fingers as he scarfs it down, perhaps too fast by the way his stomach begins to ache. Above him, Osamu chuckles, reaching down to grab Hinata’s wrist.

“Careful, or you’ll be sick again,” Osamu says, and Hinata _hates_ the ambiguity between the taunt and genuine. He pulls his arm out of Osamu’s loose grasp, hugging the bowl to his chest as he meets his eyes.

“I didn’t get sick,” Hinata spits, voice rasping from disuse. “That was _your_ fault.”

Osamu’s lips twitch into a smile. “Semantics,” he says, as if the exchange is nothing more unusual than a casual conversation. As if Hinata isn’t chained to the ground, eating with his hands.

Hinata tears his eyes away and goes back to his food, taking Osamu’s advice if only not to relive the foul experience of retching. He licks every grain from the bowl, from his hands, leaves nothing behind but smooth pottery and an emptiness only sated momentarily. 

“I wonder,” Osamu drawls, pacing in a slow circle around Hinata. “What does it feel like, to be kept like this?”

Hinata turns his head to follow him, not wanting Osamu out of his sight. “Is that supposed to be a joke?” he asks, incredulous.

Osamu tips his head to the side. “Ain’tcha fond of our mercy? You’re nice and safe here.”

 _“Safe?”_ Hinata bites back, dropping the bowl. It rolls a few feet away, knocking against the iron bars. “You must be kidding.”

“What? You ain’t in any danger of dyin’,” Osamu says, stopping in front of him. He squats down to Hinata’s level, balancing his elbows on the tops of his knees. “Be thankful we found a new purpose for a runt like you.”

A shiver runs up Hinata’s spine, eyes narrowing. “What _purpose?_ To be your new punching bag?”

At that, Osamu laughs, the sound drifting through the hopelessness of the cell walls. “I can’t tell if you’re oblivious or willingly naive,” he says, reaching forward to touch Hinata’s chin. Hinata stills as Osamu tips his face up with a single finger, dark eyes shadowed by the flickering candlelight. “You’ll find out soon enough— if you last that long.”

There’s unsettling implication lying underneath his words, one Hinata can’t quite see. Osamu holds him there, as if waiting for him to speak, staring into his eyes. Hinata doesn’t want to look. His stomach turns over with every moment spent staring at him, every moment spent with his hands on his skin. Osamu, as if sensing Hinata’s fear in his cowering form, moves even closer. His hand slides down Hinata’s neck, feeling the pulse hammer against his palm, curling slightly before pulling away entirely. The moment Osamu leans back, Hinata scurries away, tripping over the chain in an attempt to get his back to the wall. Osamu chuckles at the sight, watching Hinata hug his knees to his chest.

“You’ve been given a choice,” Osamu says, rising to a stand. “You’ll accept your purpose, one way or another.”

He dusts off his cloak, turning his back to Hinata as he steps back out of the cell, locking it shut once more. Over the next few months, Hinata will get used to this sight— Osamu, peering at him through the bars, half smiling, silver hair glowing in the candlelight. He will get used to the knowledge that food comes with the appearance of him, his twisted words, his games. It comes with being at his mercy. It comes with a deep rooted kind of shame. And worst of all, it comes with the knowledge that soon, Atsumu will arrive.

But Hinata knows none of that now. Osamu looks at him through the bars and all Hinata can feel is relief that there is something to separate them. As Osamu leaves, his footsteps fade, and Hinata can close his eyes, can rest without the terrible hurt of hunger, shivering and cold. Still, the crawling sensation of Osamu’s words loom over him, even after he’s gone.

—

Atsumu drops his cape onto the floor before entering the cell, letting the door rattle shut behind him. Drowsy from a light sleep, Hinata startles awake at the noise, pushing his body flush against the wall. There’s nowhere for him to escape, and Atsumu is smiling in a way that hides none of his malice, eyes hooded and shadowed in the flickering light. Hinata grips his knees tight to his chest, tensing as Atsumu snickers, pulling at the fingertips of his gloves.

“Only one beatin’ and you’re already cowering against the wall, huh?” he says, pulling the glove off his left hand. He lets it drop at his feet as he busies with the other. “That makes this a lot more fun. I was wonderin’ when you’d drop the act.”

Hinata looks away from his face, staring at the gloves with a look of disgust. “What _act?”_ he says, wrinkling his nose. 

Atsumu steps forwards, gold toed shoes clicking against the stone. “The tough one. The one where you pretend you ain’t still wishin’ for death. For an escape.”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “I think you’re just imagining that,” he says, trying not to tense as Atsumu grows closer. Although his hands are free, he could never fight Atsumu off completely. He’s tall and _strong,_ much stronger than Hinata is after having spent days without proper food or sunlight. Still, Hinata can fight, can push back, can make it harder for him, whatever _it_ may be.

Atsumu’s smile falls. _Danger,_ Hinata thinks, a split second before Atsumu grabs his hair. He’s lifted off the ground an inch, Atsumu’s fingers twisting and pulling his scalp tight. 

“This is for talkin’ back,” he spits, jerking Hinata’s head forwards before slamming it against the wall. 

Hinata’s vision blacks out for a moment, a dull _throb_ audible in his ears as the ache rattles throughout his skull. Atsumu pulls his face up to meet his as he leans down, Hinata’s vision returning to the sight of a wide grin and deep brown eyes. Atsumu laughs, throwing Hinata down to the ground as he tries to blink the spots from his vision completely. He pushes himself up onto his elbows only to be pulled back by the chain around his ankle, cheek scraping against the stone floor as he’s dragged.

“Ah, Shouyou, don’t go! We’ve just started,” Atsumu says, a false kind of joy lacing his tone. Hinata whips his head around, ears burning with anger, hands beginning to shake. Atsumu grins down at him, chain held loosely in one hand.

“Don’t— get my name out of your mouth!” he shouts, voice cracking. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, _Shouyou,”_ Atsumu taunts, dragging him forwards again. “Don’tcha know I _own_ you now? Like a bitch on a leash— maybe it’d be clearer if this chain was around your neck.”

Atsumu steps onto the centre of Hinata’s chest, pushing down on his sternum to hold him in place. Hinata reaches a hand up to claw at his ankle only for Atsumu to kick his foot forwards, right against his chin. Hinata’s teeth knock together as his jaw is forced shut, worsening the throbbing in his head. The chain is dropped, clattering loudly against the ground as Atsumu steps down on one of his wrists.

“Next time, I’m tying these,” he mutters. Hinata struggles, trying to wrench his arm free from under Atsumu’s foot. Atsumu lets more of his weight rest on Hinata’s arm, clicking his tongue. “Keep fightin’ and I’ll break your pretty little wrists and pull the nails from all your fingers.”

Hinata falters, a shudder running down his spine at the thought. He drops his other hand, scowling as Atsumu chuckles.

“Good, you know how to fuckin’ listen,” Atsumu spits. He steps off of Hinata’s wrist and grabs him by the hair again, wrenching his head back. “Why don'tcha try apologizin’, huh?”

“In your dreams,” Hinata grits out, teeth clenched with the effort it takes not to cry out. The pain in his head has started to make him nauseous, the world spinning every time Atsumu jerks his head in a different direction.

Atsumu throws him against the wall, Hinata’s head knocking against it again as he slumps down to the floor. He cries out, biting his tongue to try and stifle the noise in vain. The entire world spins around him, reduced to his pulse, the weight of his own limbs, and Atsumu, pulling him by the hair to force his eyes up towards him. He steps forwards, the toe of his shoe pressing down onto Hinata’s crotch. His stomach turns over, sickened by the humiliation of having Atsumu sneer at him, of being completely under his thumb. Hinata squirms uselessly, an impending sense of vertigo taking over as Atsumu spits.

“One day,” Atsumu says, voice dark and low, sharpened by his smile. “I’m gonna get you on your knees, worshippin’ my every word.”

“You’re— you’re delusional,” Hinata stammers, words slurring as the image of Atsumu begins to focus.

Atsumu grinds his heel against Hinata, watching the way his eyes screw tight, the way he hisses. Still holding him by the hair, he kicks him in the stomach and drops his head, Hinata doubling over as his balance eludes him.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Atsumu laughs, and Hinata prays to every god— for what, he doesn’t know.

—

Time slips by in strange ways without the sun to guide him. Hinata gets glimpses of strange things between the bars of his cell— the servants relighting the candles, other prisoners being dragged through, stoic guards who wordlessly patrol the dungeon. He never hears the other prisoners here, whether because he’s being kept in another location, or because they’ve already expended their use.

 _Expended their use._ Hinata wrinkles his nose, dragging himself towards the tap for a drink. The question of whether or not he’ll ever become boring to the princes looms over, coming to him after every beating, after every meal. When the twins circle him like hawks hunting prey, when they laugh at him flinching, when they are content with the sight of him bloodied, Hinata wonders, _how long will this last?_

Hinata can only tell how long has passed since his capture by the growth of his hair. It tickles his ears in an uncomfortable manner— three weeks, he thinks, it must be closer to a month. When he left for his mission, he was told that he’d be presumed dead after three months. It took him two to reach the kingdom, leaving him a corpse in the mind of his country. He’s sure they must've realized it before then, when he stopped sending letters, when he was found out.

He tries to picture his mother, his sister, sitting in their modest village home, waiting for him to return. Hinata can’t even be sure if the king would tell her what happened, where he is. He isn’t sure if he wants her to know.

With hands that tremble with the weakness in his bones, Hinata twists the tap open, dipping his mouth down to drink from the slow trickle of water. He’s glad for this, at least. It’s almost novel, the pipe system. Karasuno’s castle has something similar, but only for the baths, supplied by rainwater. He wonders where this comes from.

Thirst quenched, Hinata lies on the floor. He’s tired, so very tired. His eyes flutter shut, neck kinked at an uncomfortable angle. Sleeping on the floor is one of the worst parts, another kind of humiliation he can’t stand. It horrifies him to think of how quickly he got used to it.

He has almost drifted off when the soft sound of footsteps rouses him from his rest. Hinata rolls over so that his face is turned away from the bars, and attempts to slow his breathing in mock sleep. There’s only one set of feet, and if he’s lucky—

Well, he’s sure neither will leave him in peace. But, the ruse is worth a try.

“Hinata? Are you asleep?” Osamu calls out, keys rattling against the bars. Hinata swallows, keeping still. The door opens with a creak, Osamu’s footsteps slow as they grow closer to Hinata. He hears the rustle of his robes behind him, and the soft, low sound of a hum. He feels warm air tickle his ear, and fights against his body’s urge to seize up at the sensation.

“I know you’re awake,” Osamu murmurs. “You’ve been holdin’ your breath ever since I came in.”

Hinata exhales, berating himself as his eyes open. He doesn’t move, waiting for Osamu to lean back before flopping onto his back. “What do you want?” he asks, exhaustion lining the stubbornness in his words.

Osamu hums. He’s sitting with his legs to the side, his deep red cape draped across the floors. Hinata can spot the golden lining, the beautiful black etching on the inner fabric. It’s beautiful, a work of art worn by a thing more demon than human.

“I wanted to talk,” Osamu says, innocently enough. His voice is so level, deadpan in comparison to his brother’s hot headed streak Hinata has too often been on the receiving end of. 

“Can’t you find a better conversation partner?” Hinata mumbles. He’s met with a slap to the face, a reminder to keep his tongue in check. The handprint stings on his cheek, but Osamu isn’t fuming, just watching, waiting.

“I think about you, Hinata,” Osamu says, staring down at him. “Today, I was wonderin’ how often you think of where you come from. If you wonder what they think of you now.” Hinata presses his lips tight, having not enough energy to do much else. “They must think you’re some kinda defector… that, or useless enough to get yourself killed. They must _hate_ you for bringin’ dishonor to your nation,” Osamu continues.

Hinata hates it, hates how right he is, hates how Osamu voices his every thought, the fears lingering in the darkness when he closes his eyes. _Useless,_ he tells himself, throat knotting as he looks away from Osamu’s face.

“But one thing is for certain,” Osamu says, grabbing Hinata’s chin and angling it towards himself. “Nobody is comin’ for you.”

Hinata’s breath hitches as the shadows flicker across Osamu’s face, across his hooded eyes and curved lips. He doesn’t want to believe that all that is left for him is contained between stone walls and iron bars, doesn’t want to confront the reality Osamu speaks of. 

“It’s true, and I bet you know it,” Osamu says matter of factly. He slips his fingertips from under Hinata’s chin, letting his head fall back onto the ground. “You’re nothin’ to them now that you’ve failed.”

Hinata closes his eyes, huffing. He just wants to _sleep,_ not play one of Osamu’s mind games, however truthful they may be. There’s a few minutes of silence, where Hinata can feel the tug of sleep on his mind despite the unforgettable presence of Osamu at his side. He’s too tired to care about vulnerability in front of him, already chained to the ground and weakened. He’s sure whatever Osamu wants to do now, he can do while he rests.

“Do you think your mother would be proud? To see her son wastin’ away?” Osamu whispers, mouth close to Hinata’s ears. Hinata startles awake, panting as Osamu smiles. 

“D-don’t,” Hinata warns, chest tightening. “Don’t talk about her.”

Osamu cocks his head. “So you _have_ thought about it. A failure to your nation, a failure to your mother, a failure to yourself,” he drawls. “Does it eat away at you? Make you feel useless? They sent you here to kill you. They wanted us to do it for them. But I won’t kill you, Shouyou. How does _that_ feel?”

Hinata bites his lip. Osamu stares down at him, awaiting an answer. When none comes, he simply shrugs.

“You’re nothin’ to no one,” Osamu tells him, voice a near whisper. “You’re all alone now. Well, except for me and ‘Tsumu. We’re the only thing keepin’ you alive. We’re all you have.”

The thought makes Hinata shudder, stomach turning over. He closes his eyes and attempts to curl up onto his side, only to be stopped, shoulder pinned to the ground. “It’s awfully rude to try and sleep when someone’s talkin’ to you, Hinata,” Osamu says. Hinata scowls up at him, and Osamu simply chuckles in reply. “I guess you’re exhausted. It must take a lot of energy, gettin’ thrown around.”

Still pinned down with the weight of Osamu’s forearm, Hinata swallows, feeling the ache of scrapes and bruises that haven’t quite healed. “Not eating does that, too,” he says, voice strained. He hates the sound of it, shrinks into his skin at his own weakness.

Osamu hums. “You want some food? I can get it for you, if you behave.”

Hinata’s eyes open wider, alertness coming back at the prospect of eating _something._ “Really?” he asks, and the eagerness of his tone slips out without him meaning to. 

“Yeah,” Osamu tells him, taking his weight off of Hinata’s chest. “But you can’t sleep tonight if you want it. You gotta last ‘till I say so. If I come back and you’re asleep, you’re not gettin’ a single bite.” Hinata balks at the ultimatum, watching as a grin spreads across Osamu’s lips. “Then again… I don’t want you to die of starvation. How much time has passed since you last ate, can you guess?”

Hinata hesitates. He tries to think— back to his last meal, the time passed since. Time becomes a mere construct in the confines of the dungeon, an intangible existence known only by the inevitability of one or both of the twins coming to visit.

“I— I don’t—” Hinata stammers.

“Take a guess,” Osamu says, and the commanding tone in his voice makes Hinata freeze. He continues to wrack his mind for any sort of idea, coming up short.

“T-two days?” he offers, grimacing as his stomach begins to churn at the thought of food.

“Close,” Osamu says, placing a hand on Hinata’s cheek. “Two hours.” Hinata’s jaw drops. It’s a lie, he _knows_ it is, but a part of his mind can’t help but believe in Osamu’s words. The emptiness he feels in his stomach grounds him to reality, lets him know it _couldn’t_ have been only two hours. But Osamu’s words are certain, with no room for question, making Hinata second guess everything he knows.

As Hinata goes through his internal struggle, he barely even notices Osamu’s thumb stroking his cheek. “Since you got it half right, I can get you a half portion of food,” he coos. “Does that sound good? You shouldn’t need that much since you _did_ just eat.”

“B-but—”

“No buts, or you won’t get anythin’,” Osamu cuts him off, leaning over Hinata. “I told you, didn’t I? You have to be good, or you ain’t gettin’ a single bite.”

Panic begins to set into Hinata’s body, multiplying the feeling of hunger and the pain in his stomach. He holds his tongue of any further protest, of any sort of begging he can feel take form on the back of his tongue.

“F-fine,” Hinata chokes out, immediately biting his lip to keep back any smart talk he wants to say.

Osamu looks to be on cloud nine, a spark forming in his otherwise cold and careless eyes. “Good boy,” he whispers, letting his fingers drag as he removes his hand from Hinata’s cheek and rises to a stand. “I’ll be back with some food. Don’t worry, it shouldn’t take too long.”

Hinata shudders, stomach twisting as Osamu locks the door behind him, leaving the way he came. A part of him knows this is all just a sick game, that getting food won’t be as easy as staying awake until he comes back, but it’s so hard to reason with his brain in his stomach. _Hungry,_ he thinks, _so, so hungry. How could it have only been two hours? It couldn’t have…_

_Could it?_

—

Osamu returns with a bowl of warm rice, smiling at the sight of Hinata blearily propping himself up by his elbows. “Good, you didn’t fall asleep on me,” he says, kicking the door closed with his foot. “A half portion of rice, just like I promised.”

He sits down beside Hinata, setting the bowl next to him. Hinata goes to grab it, fingers grasping at nothing as Osamu pulls it away with a smirk.

“I think you’re forgettin’ somethin’,” he tells him, lifting the bowl out of reach. 

Hinata furrows his brows, struggling to sit up. “W-what? I didn’t fall asleep, that’s what you said.”

Osamu nods. “You didn’t, and that’s good and all, but you forget your manners,” he chides. Hinata stares at his expression, looking for any sort of clue that he could be joking. The deadpan nature of his disposition leaves nothing but a serious exterior, and Hinata wants to _scream_ because of _course_ he’d still be expected to be polite.

“Thank you,” he grits out, forcing himself not to try and snatch the bowl from Osamu’s hands.

Osamu, _ever benevolent,_ sets the bowl back down. “You’re welcome,” he replies, and sits back to watch Hinata eat.

It’s gone before Hinata can even savour the feeling of fullness. It’s too small to be called a proper meal, but Hinata knows he can’t argue, two hours or two days be damned. The moment he speaks up, Osamu will make him regret it, and there’s nothing Hinata wants more than to be left in peace. Finished, he pushes the bowl back towards Osamu, folding his hands in his lap as he tries not to shiver under Osamu’s gaze. There’s something about the sharpness in his eyes that threatens to crawl up from the base of his spine, wrap around his throat and silence him completely. What it is, Hinata can’t name.

“Not gonna lick the bowl clean this time?” Osamu asks, tracing his finger around the rim. Hinata balks at him for a moment before he shrugs. “I figured, if you’re so hungry to be beggin’ for food after two hours, you might as well.”

“I didn’t _beg,”_ Hinata grumbles. 

Osamu hums, knocking his knees against Hinata’s as he leans in. “Maybe, but if you did, I woulda given you more.”

The hairs on the back of Hinata’s neck stand on end. Nonetheless, he scoffs and pushes himself away from Osamu. “Like that’ll ever happen.”

Osamu’s empty laughter bounces off of the walls, cool and chilling. “You sound awfully sure of that, _Shouyou,”_ he says, drawing out Hinata’s name. Hinata shudders, pushing himself further back. “You’ll take back your words. I know you will.”

Hinata doesn’t reply. He sits and he watches Osamu smile, fox-like in his mystery. He’s trembling even as Osamu stands to leave, taking the small bowl along with him. A strange, shrouded part of Hinata aches as the door is locked again, the creep of boredom curling up from his spine as he’s left by his lonesome once more. And for a brief moment, sleep eludes him, until the thought of Osamu’s double edged words exhausts him to the point of collapse. 

—

Hinata finishes retching up nothing but bile onto the stone floor, wrists bound behind his back and cheek pressed against his own sick. He can hear a grimace from behind him, but from which twin, he can’t be sure. The other laughs— _Atsumu?_ Hinata thinks— and his head begins to pound. He falls under the weight of his own limbs, rolling away from his puke and prone onto his back. The thick rope bindings on his wrists forces him to arch his back in accommodation, worsening the ache in his already battered torso. 

“Don’t relax yet, Shouyou,” Atsumu says, stepping closer. “We’re just gettin’ started, and I ain’t stoppin’ till I see you bleed.”

Osamu grabs a fistful of his hair, yanking him forwards so that he sits on his knees. The sudden movement worsens his nausea, and in a fit of panic, he gags on nothing, leaning forwards without cause. 

“Boo, there’s nothin’ left for you to throw up,” says Atsumu. He moves behind Hinata to grab his bound wrists, lifting them at an unnatural angle. When Hinata cries out, he laughs, looking over towards Osamu with a grin. “You’re awfully quiet ‘Samu. Whatcha thinkin’?”

Osamu stares down at Hinata, gaze vacant, dark. “I was thinkin’ that he looks pretty, all tied up like that,” he tells him, holding Hinata’s gaze. “Wouldn’t he look good with a gag?”

“But ‘Samu, then we can’t hear him scream!” Atsumu chides, twisting Hianta’s arms further. It puts an intense kind of pressure on Hinata’s shoulder, one that has him thrashing out of the hold in a moment of adrenaline. He breaks away, slumping a foot or so from Atsumu as he spits, fury building up inside of him alongside a kind of embarrassment that threatens to overtake it. Something in him snaps, and all of his previous reservations disappear.

“Shut _up!”_ he shouts, throat hoarse from retching, eyes watering with tears as his gaze shifts between the two twins. “Fuck you! You fucking _lunatics!_ What kind of sick— fucking— _fuck you!”_

Hinata spits onto the leather of Atsumu’s shoe, shaking with rage, with humiliation, now unable to say anything else. His breathing shakes as he exhales, blood thrumming under his skin with every heave of breath. He can feel the weight of twin glares on his face, burrowing against his skull. Regret creeps into the space silence leaves to fill, curling in his stomach as Osamu begins to smile.

“What did you just say?” he says, face splitting into a grin. Atsumu makes a move to hit Hinata, only for Osamu to reach out and catch his wrist, eyes trained forwards, wide as they take in Hinata’s growing terror. Hinata flinches as he steps forwards, the consequence of his actions standing before him. Osamu’s fists clench at his sides, knuckles white. “Shouyou, _what did you just call us?”_

Hinata’s voice is nowhere to be found, throat dry as he tries to fix the mess he’s just created. “I— I just—”

Osamu surges forwards and thrusts his hand down to wrap around Hinata’s throat. He squeezes with strength beyond what Hinata was aware of, forcing Hinata to sputter. “You’d be _dead_ if not for us, _”_ Osamu says, voice low, hollow. His under eye twitches as Hinata begins to struggle, thrashing about in his hold. Osamu lifts his hand higher, pulling Hinata off of the ground. “Would you rather have your tongue cut off? Or can you keep yourself in check and be _grateful_ I didn’t let Atsumu carve out your eyes?”

 _It’s a bluff,_ Hinata tells himself, vision growing blurry as Osamu’s fingernails dig into his skin. _He’s lying, they’d never, he wouldn’t—_

“‘Samu, don'tcha have a new punishment for him?” Atsumu adds, voice lined with a malice so thick Hinata thinks it to be loathing. 

Osamu doesn’t look away from Hinata, from his purpling lips, glassy eyes, red face. His smile grows, a flash of teeth Hinata thinks might be fangs glinting in the flickering candlelight. He throws Hinata down, letting him fall like a heap onto the ground, sucking in air and coughing as oxygen rushes back into his lungs. He presses one cheek to the rock, looking up in time to watch Atsumu unlock the cuff around his ankle. Without giving Hinata even a moment of respite, Osamu reaches back down and grabs his hair, yanking him up to his feet. Hinata yelps at the pain, immediately following the movement to prevent his hair getting pulled out. Osamu drags him out of the cell with only the grasp in his hair, Atsumu wandering behind with a look of glee poisoned by his own venom. Hinata screams in protest, his cries reverberating off of the stone walls in an endless kind of echo that only intensifies his pain. 

“This is what you get, Shouyou,” Atsumu taunts, looming over him as he’s dragged across the dungeon floor. “It’s _all_ your fault.”

The sound of a wrought iron door scraping against stone makes Hinata shudder. Fear grips him as he, unable to speak, mouths uselessly at Atsumu, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Suddenly, he feels his hands untied before he’s thrown forwards, back colliding with the ground and knocking the wind out of him. He scrambles to push himself upright, turning away from the lightless chamber to stare at the twins outside of the door.

“Be back soon,” Osamu tells him, with Atsumu leaning onto his side. It’s the last thing Hinata sees before the door slams shut, the room engulfed in total darkness.

And Hinata, alone, bruised, and shuddering, is left to wait.

And wait.

  
  


And wait.

  
  
  
  


And wait.

—

Darkness. It’s all there is within the room. Hinata leans up against one wall; a low ring fills his ears, constant in the complete silence. Time heals the deep ache in his muscles, but there’s no telling how long he spends lying on the ground, staring at nothing. The world condenses down to him, with nothing but the scrape of stone against him to remind him that he exists. The lack of difference between having his eyes open and closed leaves him empty. 

A small shutter opens when he isn't looking, a small beam of light cutting through the darkness for a split second. Hinata crawls towards the source, reaching blindly until his hands land on a bowl. Scooping the grains of rice into his mouth, Hinata finds himself licking the bowl in his hunger, unable to see where scraps may have fallen. All he is sure of is the hunger aching in his gut, binding him to the thin slot under the door. 

He can’t be sure how much time passes between meals, can’t be sure when he’s awake or asleep. Dreams don’t come easy at the bottom of a dungeon, harder still when opening your eyes brings not the comfort of reality but a distorted afterimage of your own imagining. He stacks each new bowl atop the last, hoarding onto the objects as he waits for the next. Each one is a small grip on the passage of time, a tally of how many times he’s been fed. 

The count comes to 15 before he hears the _ker-chunk_ of the door unlocking. He isn’t sleeping, but thinks he might be, until the frame of the door glows with the light behind it. Trembling, he crawls towards it, not quite aware of the twisting of his insides at the prospect of who waits for him. He needs someone, _anyone,_ to release him from the darkness. He winces in the face of the light that floods the room, protecting his eyes so that they can adjust to the light after so long of pure black. His eyes strain to make out the mirrored silhouettes looking down at him, just able to make out the glint of their golden crowns. Hinata crawls closer, raising one hand as if to touch the hem of their robes, to support his shaking limbs, to not be left behind.

“Have you reflected on your actions?” Osamu says, shadowed face coming into view as Hinata’s pupils shrink. “Or do you need a little more time alone?”

“No!” Hinata shouts, voice raspy, grating from disuse. He crawls closer, vision blurry through the tears welling up. He tries to speak, only to cough, buckling over as Osamu coos.

“Look at you,” he says, voice quiet as Hinata shakes on the ground. “I think you’re ready now.”

Hinata nods mutely, silent sobs jerking his body as he sits up, watching Atsumu uncoil a length of rope.

“Aw, ain’t that _cute,”_ Atsumu jeers, grinning wide as he begins to loop the rope around Hinata’s wrists. Hinata tries to stand on his own, legs collapsing under him the moment he rises. Luckily, Atsumu hoists him back up, giving him the mercy of balancing before slowly leading him out of the dark room and into the dungeon halls. Osamu stands beside him, resting his hand on the small of Hinata’s back as if to guide him forwards to the inevitable destination. Slowly, he leans down, lips brushing against Hinata’s ear as he whispers:

_“Good job.”_

As if it’d stop Hinata from drowning himself in his tears. The back of his neck flushes, and he tries not to flinch as the warmth of his breath vanishes, along with both twins, his regular cell welcoming him with cold, iron bars.

—

Hinata can’t help but stay silent the next time the twins visit, shuddering under their gazes as they step closer. Every shadow is a reminder of the darkness on Osamu’s face when he snapped, the emptiness in his eyes that still lingers in the moments of quiet. Atsumu sneers and taunts sink into his skin and Hinata says nothing, staring blankly at the wall as he’s struck from behind.

“Gone mute on us, have you?” Atsumu says, tugging Hinata towards him by the chain around his ankle. The sudden jerk forces him onto his stomach, leg scraping against the rough stone and pulling back layers of skin on his calf. Hinata hisses, the sound sharp and all he’s said since the twins arrived. Atsumu snickers as Hinata crawls away, curling over the ugly pink gash. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Atsumu crouch down to his level, dropping the chain. Hinata whips his head around and raises his hand to swat Atsumu’s arm away out of pure instinct only to freeze as Osamu clicks his tongue.

“Do you wanna go back to the dark room?” Osamu asks, voice dark in the same way it was that night. He wanders around from behind Hinata, staring down at him with half lidded eyes.

Hinata stops, dropping his hand, not daring to make a move. Shame wells in his throat as Atsumu’s laughter fills the room, the sting of his scrape no worse than the wound to his pride as Osamu looks down at him and _smiles._

—

The _creak_ of the cell door opening startles Hinata from his strange half sleep state, head whipping around to the source of the noise. Atsumu kicks the door shut with one foot, grinning as he enters the room. In his arms is a small wooden box that he sets down and kicks towards the back wall before approaching Hinata, arms held behind his back.

“Whatcha doin’ hiding in the corner? Did I wake you?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. 

Hinata swallows, hurriedly sitting up. “Sorry,” he finds himself saying, unsure what he’s apologizing for. His skin has begun to go cold in fear watching Atsumu circle the room, growing closer and closer towards him. Hinata spares a glance at the wooden box— there’s some old parchment and sticks inside, and atop them lies a box of what appears to be matches. A strange kind of morbid curiosity fills him, anxiety curling in its wake as Atsumu kneels down in front of it.

“It’s fuckin’ cold down here,” he says, striking a match and tossing it into the box. The parchment catches quickly, the flame beginning to set alight the other bits of kindling. Hinata isn’t sure what good a small box will do for either of their comfort, not that his own ever mattered, but stays silent, waiting for Atsumu to make a move.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t stand, staying level with Hinata as he moves closer. “Y’know, I think about you a lot, Shouyou,” Atsumu says. 

“D-do you?” Hinata asks, looking him up and down. Atsumu wears a long, puffy sleeved white shirt and fitted pants, dressed down as he so often is when he comes to visit. The sleeves are already rolled, revealing strong forearms bare of any other finery. Hinata wonders where the immaculate bangles have gone, and why he might’ve removed them today. Everything feels _off_ in a way that unsettles him more than he can quite understand, especially as Atsumu meets his eyes.

“‘Course I do,” he tells him, shadows from the small fire shifting across his face. “And I’ve been thinkin’ about how I can make sure that you’ll always be _ours.”_

A chill races down Hinata’s spine, stomach rising to his throat as Atsumu’s eyes narrow. The shadows around them make his irises blend in with the black of his pupils, eyes a swirl of darkness that only serves to make Hinata feel small, so small in his presence. The feeling only grows as Atsumu reaches behind him, pulling out a dagger from within his belt that Hinata truly begins to panic.

The dagger is ornate, with a jade hilt and a straight blade, sharpened to a razor’s edge and catching the warm glow of the fire as he spins it masterfully in one hand. Hinata’s mouth goes dry as the sight, heart pounding against his ribcage as Atsumu studies the dagger himself.

“Ain’t it nice? ‘Samu has one to match,” Atsumu tells him, smiling. Speechless, all Hinata can do is shake his head, pushing himself flush to the wall as Atsumu leans in closer. “Aw, cat got your tongue?”

“A-Atsumu—” Hinata stammers, watching the blade as it grows closer and closer to his chest. Atsumu braces his other arm against the wall, looming over Hinata completely. “What— what are you—”

“Shh, if you stay still, you’ll be _fine,”_ Atsumu tells him, biting his lip. The tip of the dagger presses to the worn, ragged material of Hinata’s cotton shirt, along the first button. “For now.”

Atsumu manages to tear open the majority of Hinata’s tunic in one swipe, the sweat soaked, bloodstained fabric falling open to reveal a heaving chest. Atsumu licks his lips, letting the knife ghost along the bare skin before ripping the fabric further. The already tattered sleeves are torn off with mere brute force, Hinata cowering with his eyes squeezed shut as Atsumu throws the garment towards the fire.

“You look much better without it, trust me,” he tells him, eyes carrying a maniacal glint. Hinata moves to pull his legs to his chest, but Atsumu is faster, grabbing him by the shoulder and flipping him down onto his stomach. Atsumu pins him with his body weight, setting the knife on top of the burning box as Hinata struggles, mind racing with possibilities. Atsumu simply laughs, the sounds of his belt being undone only worsening Hinata’s fears.

“Stop lookin’ like you’ve seen a ghost,” Atsumu chides, looping the leather around Hinata’s wrists. He binds them tighter than comfortable, the metal clasp digging into Hinata’s wrists. “I ain’t gonna fuck you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Hinata sighs, his breath shaking, ears turning scarlet. He stares at the floor in front of him, bare chest uncomfortable against the rough hewn stone. Atsumu leans forwards, breath fanning out on his neck, the hairs rising as he chuckles.

“You’re scared, huh?” he murmurs, the low tone of his voice sending a shudder town Hinata’s neck. “I can feel you shakin’ under me, Shouyou, so there ain’t a point in lyin’.”

Hinata inhales sharply, blinking away a few stray tears. “I don’t— Atsumu what’s happening?” he asks, voice cracking. He can feel beads of sweat forming at his hairline, can feel Atsumu’s fingertips beginning to walk up and down his bare spine, feeling each ridge.

“Impatient, are we?” he asks, sitting up. He leans towards the small fire, releasing the pressure on Hinata’s chest. “Ah, looks like we’re just about ready.”

Hinata struggles, turning his head to follow Atsumu’s gaze and figure out what he means. He’s met by the sight of him reaching for a scrap of rather thick cloth, one that he brings forwards and shoves into Hinata’s mouth, pulling either end around his head to tie. Hinata bites down on the gag on instinct, the dry cotton soaking up his saliva as Atsumu reaches back once more. Hinata watches as his hand grabs the dagger from where it rests, hand wrapping around the hilt, and pulls it from the fire. It’s blade glows orange with heat, and suddenly, Hinata understands.

He desperately tries to move, despite being held in place by Atsumu atop him. Atsumu clicks his tongue, leaning closer. “If you move, it’s only gonna be worse,” he taunts, bracing one of his forearms across Hinata’s shoulders. “Unfortunately, we didn’t have this specific kinda brand lyin’ around, so it’ll have to be done a bit more… _manually.”_

Hinata’s pleas go unheard around the cloth, tensing as Atsumu lowers the blade towards his skin. He holds his breath, eyes squeezing tight as the first contact is made. The pain that meets him is excruciating, white hot behind his eyelids, shocking through him in a way that makes every nerve spark alight. His flesh sears with a sickening _hiss,_ the sting unbearable as Atsumu lifts the blade. Hinata stops to catch his breath, gritting his teeth, only for the blade to reconnect, slicing through his skin in two long, drawn out strokes that only heighten his pain. The gag muffles Hinata’s cry of agony, tears cold as they race down his cheeks, body seizing with the pain as Atsumu meticulously carves the burning blade against his skin. Sweat slicks his back as Atsumu forces him still, the blade digging deeper as a line is pulled down towards himself. Hinata can only _scream,_ such an alien sound amongst Atsumu’s own twisted laughter.

“Fuck, this is harder than I thought,” he says, shifting to wipe the blade on Hinata’s tattered shirt before placing it back by the fire. “You’re _burnin’ up,_ Shouyou. Didn’t think you’d get so red.”

Hinata sobs brokenly, breathing stilted as his vision blurs. A dull throb emanates from his left shoulder, the pain spreading to the tips of his fingers and the tips of his toes. Nothing but pain courses through him, constant despite the respite as Atsumu watches the blade begin to glow once more, lifting it from the fire to continue his torture.

This time, the pain wracks through him, penetrating deep into his bones, to his very core. Atsumu makes each stroke of the hot knife against his skin deliberate, as if leaving some kind of message behind for all to see. Hinata’s stomach cramps, head pounding, lungs heaving. Everything hurts in a way he could never describe, a way that leaves him sobbing, clenching on the gag, and praying for the torture to end. And yet Atsumu drags the dagger against him again, the putrid scent of burning blood and flesh filling the room. 

“Almost done,” Atsumu tells him. Hinata can hardly hear him over his own cries, over the blood pounding in his ears. The blade digs into his flesh again, the sharp pain of it too much as his body begins to tremble. Slowly, the world begins to fade in spots of black, until the pain is as distant as his own cries and his body lies limp on the floor.

And Atsumu finishes the tenth stroke of the kanji, throwing the knife onto the floor beside him with a grin. He wipes his forehead and brings his fingertips to the already cauterized flesh, wiping away the blood sullying the edges of _宮_ , Miya, his own name staring back at him.

—

Hinata comes to shivering, a hot kind of pain throbbing from deep within his shoulder. He chokes on his breath, curling into the warmth beneath him. It almost doesn’t register that his head rests not on the hard surface of the cell, but something soft, silken, and _alive,_ something that shifts and rests a hand on his head as he opens his eyes. Gingerly, as not to shift his shoulder, Hinata cranes his neck to look up at Osamu from where he lies in his lap. Osamu shifts his hand, smoothing his palm along Hinata’s hair as he smiles, watching as tears well in Hinata’s eyes. 

“Please,” Hinata chokes, voice breaking. His tears slip down his cheeks, heart clenching as he hiccups. “Osamu I— I can’t take it anymore.”

Osamu coos softly, shushing him. His eyes are soft, almost comforting as the remnants of shock begin to leave Hinata’s system. He’s still shaking, but a plain knit blanket covers his lower body, bindings removed completely. These comforts elude him. They’re nothing compared to the way in which Osamu’s hand rests atop his head, a steady weight, an anchor. 

“It’ll be alright, Shouyou,” he murmurs. “But I need you to lie on your stomach so I can clean your wound, okay?”

A broken noise escapes Hinata’s throat as he nods, slowly rolling himself off of his good shoulder and onto his stomach. Osamu lets him continue using his folded cape as a pillow as he presses a cool compress to Hinata’s swollen skin, holding it there for a few moments. 

“That’s good,” he tells him, and Hinata begins to relax because _he’s not being hurt,_ because Osamu cares and it’s strange and its foreign and he _craves it,_ wants, just for a moment, the relief of knowing he won’t be met with the sharp sting of a slap if he so much as whimpers. Osamu removes the compress and all of it’s subtle reprieve from summering. “This is gonna sting,” he warns, before dabbing the wound with a soaked cloth. 

Hinata grits his teeth, body tensing as a sharp pain shoots through his muscles. Despite this, he can hardly feel the cloth meeting his skin, flesh numb to sensation as the antiseptic is pressed into his wound. The process of cleaning it is torturous, but nothing compared to the branding itself. The memory haunts Hinata, threatening to turn over his stomach as Osamu hums, setting the cloth down. 

“Sit up for me,” he commands, but it's spoken softly, loud enough so only Hinata can hear. Hinata looks up, blinking away the tears in his eyes as he struggles to push himself up with one arm, the other buckling useless beside him. Osamu helps, one arm wrapping around his waist while the other supports his underarm, sitting him upright in front of him. Like this, Hinata can take in Osamu’s appearance better— his extravagant maroon regalia, his dangling earrings, his golden crown, resting across his forehead and coming to a point between his brows. He grabs a roll of bandages from a small kit beside him and begins the slow process of covering the fresh wound. 

“‘Tsumu went too far,” Osamu says, leaning over Hinata as he winds the bandages around his torso. “The brand is fine, but he was reckless. You’ll be okay, though. That’s my word.”

Hinata nods, sniffling. Nausea forms in the pit of his gut, pushing against his ribcage as he leans unconsciously into Osamu’s arms. “What… what did he do?” Hinata asks, voice small, eyes fixed on the ground. 

Osamu ties off the bandage and leans back, looking Hinata in the eye for a drawn out moment. The brown depths that meet him are unreadable, even as he continues to tend to Hinata’s wound. “He marked you with our name,” Osamu tells him, hands falling away. “It’s meticulous. You must’ve suffered.”

Hinata’s breath wavers as he exhales, muscles trembling on their own accord. The sickness tightens at his throat, Osamu’s face going blurry as new tears fall into the space between them. Hinata falls forwards, against Osamu’s chest, unable to hold himself up any longer as the gravity of it all comes falling down around him. It crushes him, leaves him prone and whimpering as Osamu’s hand returns to rest on his head. 

“It hurts, Osamu, _it hurts,”_ he cries, fist balling in his robes. “I— I’ll do anything you want, just please, _please,_ don’t hurt me, I can’t… I _can’t…”_

He can hardly believe the words falling from his mouth are his own, but it’s his voice and his hands and his tears and his pain and Osamu watches, holding him, still cooing like a mother would a child. He holds him so delicately, as if he were made of glass, and murmurs _it’s okay, Shouyou_ on end until Hinata’s cries are silent, until all there is to be heard in soft hiccups and breathing. 

Some time later, after the cold press has been set back onto his shoulder, a set of footsteps comes echoing down the stairs, signalling an arrival. Before Hinata even sees Atsumu’s face, he recoils, shrinking in on himself as if being small is all that’s needed to hide. Atsumu enters wearing the same clothes as before, smiling at the sight of Hinata rocking back and forth, horrified by the sight of him. 

“I’m sorry,” Hinata says. “I’m sorry, Atsumu, I’m sorry— don’t hurt me again, I won’t do it ever again, just _please—”_

He chokes on his own snot, coughing as Atsumu steps forwards, gaze shifting from Hinata’s shrivelling form to Osamu. They share a glance, twin smiles growing into grins hidden from Hinata through his own tears. Atsumu steps closer, ignoring how Hinata flinches, drowning in the words he never thought he’d say— _please, please, please._

And Atsumu hums, smoothing a hand over Hinata’s hair, and thinks:

_Victory._

—

Things don’t change suddenly. What he first notices is the food— a meal a day, with an egg cracked over the steaming rice, a set of chopsticks for him to use instead of eating with his bare hands. Then comes the fruits, the milk, and ever so slowly, meat— all simple, but nourishing a body weakened by time spent living off of air and water. Hinata takes it without question, relief washing over him each time a meal arrives. No longer does he spend time wondering when his next meal will arrive— he counts on it, waiting by the bars to see Osamu balancing a small tray on his forearm, smiling as he approaches. Atsumu, too, visits with his meals, smirking at Hinata’s surprise to see him bearing a meal the first time he arrives. 

The bed, too, is an improvement. His recovery is spent lying on a small futon, with a spongy lining to keep the ground from digging into his bones. The thin cotton sheet and lumpy pillows are dreamlike, lending an ease of sleep Hinata has come to lack. One day, a chamberpot shows up in the corner. The next, a small cup to drink his water from. And every other day, a stone faced servant arrives to clean the cell, Osamu leading Hinata away to a small adorning room within the dungeon. 

It’s a shower of sorts, with a manual pump to prime it and a stool to sit on as he bathes. The first time Hinata wanders in, he finds himself looking to Osamu in confusion. 

“You need to keep clean, lest your mark gets infected,” Osamu tells him. “I’ll stay here and help wash it out.”

Hinata nods, slowly looking back at the shower head. Though its metal is far from shining, it’s not rusted like the cell bars are. The stool wobbles slightly, and there’s not much light besides an oil lantern by the entrance. He tries to remember the last time he showered and comes up blank, figuring that this will be perfect. 

Osamu’s gaze is heavy on him as he discards his trousers and small clothes, pushing them in a heap to the side. He faces his back to him, aware of the deep blush travelling down the back of his neck as he unwinds the soiled bandages, letting them fall to the ground without care. The shame of his naked body and the humiliation of being watched is minimal in the face of his own exhaustion. 

The tap comes on with minimal struggle, Hinata stepping back as water is released. It falls in a slow, thick stream, cold to the touch but no colder than the dungeon itself. Hinata bristles under the spray, letting the water wash over his body and down his back, clenching his jaw as it travels over the thick scab that is the brand on his shoulder. As he stares down, he can watch the months of dirt and dried blood wash away, mixing with the water and swirling around the drain. The wash cloth on the stool is grating against his skin, but removes the grime and sweat clinging to him like anything else would. Hinata rubs his skin raw, unsure when he’ll ever get a chance like this again to be clean. 

“I think you’re good,” Osamu says, stepping forwards as Hinata struggles to reach his back. He takes the cloth from Hinata and drags it down his back, avoiding the wound and he scrubs the places Hinata can’t reach. “I’ll need to disinfect and rebandage it when I’m done.”

“O-okay,” Hinata replies, voice small and echoing alongside the water. Osamu is careful as he cleans the wound once more, yet Hinata can only feel eyes roaming over his bare skin, his palm splayed over his good shoulder as he works. He goes as far as to dry the area once the water is shut off, only leaving Hinata be to grab the fresh bandages for his shoulder. 

It's a routine that lasts until Hinata’s wound is healed, until the brand isn’t scabbed over, until all that's left is a raised scar that stands out against his shoulder blade. And Hinata accepts it all, unsure of when it’ll be taken away, hoping that the name on his shoulder won’t abandon him in the darkness ever again. 

The night he can finally move his shoulder without wincing, touch the mark and feel the skin scarred back together as one, he slurps the broth Osamu left for him, and says that very same prayer— to never be alone, to never feel that pain again. 

His stomach twists with anxiety, but his body relaxes, mind turning to cotton. It’s the last though on his mind before he collapses onto his bed, the world darkened once more. 

—

Hinata wakes up to shades of pink, surrounded by softness. He opens his eyes blearily, sitting up as the bed beneath him dips slightly. 

_Bed?_ Hinata thinks, looking behind him. A multitude of pillows lie against a dark wooden headboard, intricately carved to display roses in a briar. Hinata looks over at the four posters around him, the draping organza curtains a warm shade of red that catches the sunlight as it passes through. 

_Sunlight._ Hinata pulls open one of the curtains, coming face to face with the sight of a large framed window. It’s hard to see much out of the window besides the bright blue sky, but still, Hinata can feel his shoulders relax. His eyes glaze over the large room, sparkling with hints of gold and gems, with its dual vanities and dressers, its loveseat and desks. Instantly, he shuts the curtain, worried he’s seen something he wasn't supposed to. There’s no telling where he is, or how he ended up on a bed so soft Hinata thinks he might be in heaven, but he supposes it must be the twins’ doing. It does little to soothe is anxiety, anticipation building in its wake as he runs his hands over the heavy duvet beneath him. There's a decorative blanket at the foot of the bed, with elaborate embroidery woven to display foxes and a forest, all amongst the backdrop of a setting sun. Hinata admires it for a moment, wondering who it belongs to. 

His gaze turns back to himself, to the strange clothes he now wears. Flowing chiffon pants are held tight at the ankle by elastic golden thread, resting low on his hips. His top has sleeves without shoulders, made of a similar material, but only comes down to his navel, not quite covering the rest of his chest. Slowly, Hinata raises his arm, tucking his nose towards himself and taking a small whiff. He’s met with a light floral scent, and indeed, his skin is soft and pristine, hair fluffy when he runs his fingers through it. 

The last thing he can recall is drinking broth in the cell, worrying away as everything began to fade, and even then he struggles to remember. With a little time, he reasons that someone brought him here, that he was bathed and clothed and laid down on a four poster bed, amidst pure luxury, and left unchained by his lonesome. 

_“Shouyou,”_ a voice calls out, the sound of a door clicking shut accompanying it. “We’re back.”

The curtains are pulled open, Hinata looking up at the faces of Atsumu and Osamu smiling down at him in matching finery. Bewildered, Hinata opens his mouth, mouthing a question he can’t quite voice as either twin sits on the bed next to him, taking in his confusion. 

“You’re finally awake,” Atsumu says, bemused. His eyes flick up and down Hinata, roaming over his exposed skin. “You slept like a rock last night, y’know.”

“W-what?” Hinata says, chest tightening. 

Osamu places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Don’t worry. You get to stay here now. Ain’t that nice?”

Hinata furrows his brow, swallowing the knot in his throat. “Where’s here?” he asks, words slow and cautious. He feels small under their mirrored gazes, feels small on this large bed in this large room. 

“Our chambers, of course. You live here now,” Osamu explains, smile growing wider. “You deserve much better than that dingy cell, don’tcha think? You’ve proven how good you are, after all.”

Hinata’s eyes flick between the two princes, shoulders tensing. “I— I don’t get it,” he whispers, wide-eyed and in disbelief. 

Atsumu hums, hand splaying out against Hinata’s knee. “You better. I doubt you’d prefer goin’ back there, huh?” he says with a smirk. “You haven’t been misbehavin’ in a long while, but if you do…”

“I won’t!” Hinata exclaims, straightening his back. “I promise, I won’t.”

“Good… what do you say then?” Atsumu continues, leaning as he jeers. 

“T-thank you,” Hinata stammers, the weight of their hands burning his skin. “Thank you Atsumu, Osamu.”

Osamu smiles, fondness crinkling his eyes. “Good.” The single word makes Hinata shiver, relaxing further into the bed. “You’re allowed in this room, the closets, and the adjoining baths— that's every room attached to this one. The main double doors will be locked when we leave for the day, but we’ll always return to you.”

Hinata nods, memorizing the instructions. Atsumu grins lazily, looking towards his brother. “Ain’t it nice to think about, comin’ back to this pretty of a sight?”

Osamu hums in assent, sliding his hand down Hinata’s arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “It will be,” he agrees, eyes drifting back over to Hinata. “You can read anythin’ on the shelves. There’s nowhere for you to hide things, so don’t try. Servants will bring your meals for you at scheduled times, so no need to call for them. Most everythin’ is taken care of, so you don’t have to worry.”

Stunned in silence, Hinata stares at the two, playing with the fabric of his pants. They watch his every fidget, take in the flush as he looks away to stare at his hands. 

“Do… do I sleep here?” he asks, shifting against the duvet. 

Atsumu snorts. “‘Course you do. You get to sleep right here, with us,” he tells him. 

“But you shouldn’t be tired, right? You should be hungry,” Osamu adds. Hinata nods, aware of the slow growl in his stomach— just how long was he asleep? “The servants should be bringin’ dinner now.”

Hinata nods again. “Dinner… sounds good.”

Osamu chuckles, reaching forwards. Hinata flinches slightly, only for the hand to ruffle his hair lightly. And in the face of such odd gestures, Hinata simply relishes in the attention, praying that it’s not a dream, that it won't fade away, and that the small spark of hope in his chest won't be wasted. 

—

A few days pass, filled with cautious exploration of the chamber. Hinata mostly spends it lounging about, gaining strength as he eats meals rich in flavour, with desserts served on the side. Hinata watches the twins _exist_ in this space, watches them bicker about their regalia, take off the crowns at the end of the day, watches them stretch and sit beside him, waiting for him to inch closer. Osamu takes Hinata’s measurements one morning before heading to hold the royal court, jotting them down on parchment with an elegant fountain pen. He helps him bathe, working soap into his hair as Hinata soaks in one of the many deep pools in their private baths. The clothes that are given to him are light and airy, with shawls and cut off tops, flowing pants and skirts, each with leeway to stretch over his small frame. He likes them, but notices the gaze that settles on him each morning when he changes, notices the way Atsumu and Osamu watch him strip bare and redress. He notices the lack of proper briefs and writes it off as aesthetic choice, like everything else in the room. 

The touches surprise him. Atsumu sleeps with an arm around his waist, a position that at one point made him panic while watching Osamu in front of him. Trapped between the two, Hinata wonders how hands that made him hurt so much manage to be so soft as he’s falling asleep, even as Atsumu snickers every time he jumps as he lies down next to him. 

And secretly, Hinata craves every touch against his skin, craves the moments where Osamu combs his hair, where Atsumu rubs his lower back and rests his chin on his shoulder. His body longs for the gentle, for the kind. Touch starved, Hinata drowns in what he was once deprived of, slowly growing addicted to every move the twins make. 

He _wants_ them closer. Their entrance into the room isn’t one marked by fear, but by a hidden excitement. Hinata could never admit it out loud, his desperation a source of his own humiliation every time his cheeks flush at a simple caress. But he can’t help it, flustering when he catches Osamu’s roaming his body as slips out of his night clothes, wondering if he knows how much he enjoys the feel of his gaze. 

—

It’s nearing sundown, the west facing windows catching the golden hour of the sun and flooding the room with its light. Hinata basks in front of it, not one to take the warmth for granted. He’s still standing idly when Osamu walks in, pausing to shut the door behind him. Hinata looks over to the source of the sound and chances a smile, stomach strangely light as Osamu makes his way over, shoulders softening.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Osamu says, stopping in front of Hinata. Hinata shrugs, starting as Osamu begins to unclasp his heavy cape and drape it on the back of a chair. 

“Sunsets are pretty,” Hinata explains, unsure what else to say. The sky has turned a soft shade of orange, not unlike that of his hair. The glow that radiates into the chamber makes everything burn a little brighter, gold embellishments shimmering, the light catching the jewels in Osamu’s crown as he lifts it from his forehead and sets it onto his vanity. 

Osamu turns back to him, corners of his lips lifting slightly at Hinata’s candor. “I enjoy them, too. They make your skin glow.”

He steps into Hinata’s space, the setting sun casting long shadows over his cheekbones as he tilts his head. Hinata looks up at him in wonder, uncertain how to react to the compliment. His cheeks dust red, body reacting on its own volition as he stumbles over some kind of appropriate response to the prince. Osamu simply laughs, gentle and quiet, watching Hinata’s eyes grow wide, doe-like, hopeful.

“You’re so interestin’, Shouyou,” he mumbles. “I wanna know what goes on in that head of yours.”

Hinata furrows his brow in confusion. “W-what do you mean?” he asks.

Osamu stares at him for a long while, eyes roaming Hinata’s face. “Exactly that,” he says, finally speaking. “I want to know you inside and out.”

Hinata lets out a soft exhale, mouth falling into an _oh._ He doesn’t know how to respond, nor how to react as Osamu raises his hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. His hand lingers there, hovering in space, and when he moves again Hinata almost flinches before his palm comes to rest on his cheek. 

“I won’t hurt you,” Osamu whispers, rubbing his thumb across Hinata’s cheek. He leans closer, bringing their faces closer together. “I want you to believe what I say.”

Hinata nods, not daring to breathe. Osamu smiles, still cupping Hinata’s face, and lowers his lips to his cheek. He presses a kiss to the rosy blush spreading down his neck, lips lingering against his skin before he pulls back only slightly, looking down at Hinata to gauge his reaction. Hinata, eyes wide and mouth agape, feels surprise wash over him, heart swelling in his chest. Nothing aches— there are no bruises, no scrapes. His stomach isn’t empty and his heart is full and Osamu is looking at him as if he _means something,_ as if he isn’t just a worthless speck at the bottom of a dungeon. And Hinata wants so badly to be more than what he was there, to feel something other than the echoes of that pain, and leans into the hand on his cheek. He needs this, touch starved, wants Osamu to tell him he’s _good_ like he would when he followed his command.

Hinata’s eyes fall to Osamu’s lips. He blinks, staring at them, pink and parted. He looks back up at Osamu as they quirk into a small smirk, the barest hint of a laugh escaping them as Osamu leans in once more. His half lidded eyes scan Hinata’s face, watching him closely until Hinata lets his own fall shut, leaning further into Osamu’s arms. Only then do their lips meet, Osamu’s hand cupping the back of his head, one hand resting on Hinata’s waist.

The world is reduced to the points of contact between them, the soft brush of their lips, the tingling sensation that travels through Hinata as Osamu’s lips move against his own. He sighs into the kiss, releasing the tension held in his shoulders as Osamu guides him. The weight that once bogged down every limb, now lifted, leaves Hinata floating in the feeling of Osamu’s touch. Osamu’s tongue brushes lightly against Hinata’s bottom lip, and the whole world seems to shift on its axis.

Osamu slow pulls back, their lips separating with a small _pop_ that deafens the silence in the room. Hinata chases after the kiss slightly, not ready for the distance, and slowly opens his eyes, heart hammering in his chest. Osamu rubs his lower back, looking down at him with pupils wide and spit slick lips shining in the setting sun. _More,_ something inside of Hinata says.

“Osamu,” he whispers, feeling smaller than ever before. “Please.”

And Osamu kisses him again, arms wrapping around him and pulling Hinata closer to his chest. Hinata’s lips fall open, the kiss deep and slow, lip caught between Osamu’s teeth in a careful drag that has his mind spinning. His tongue slowly brushes against his own, everything careful, meticulous, natural like the exhale Hinata releases from his nose as his eyes fall shut. He lets himself be guided backwards until his legs hit the bed, flopping down onto it in a _fwoomp_ of blankets and pillows. Osamu rests one arm beside him, one hand still tangled in Hinata’s hair. Hinata loves the feeling, loves the press of their bodies together, craves the heat of another person closer and closer and _closer_ to himself. Osamu kisses him and Hinata _wants_ it, can’t explain the desire that pulls him closer.

The _click_ of the door opening catches Hinata’s ear, has him freezing before Osamu has even drawn away. They both turn to see Atsumu, smiling wide and dropping his cape onto the floor, making his way to the bed with long strides.

“Gettin’ started without me, huh?” he says, meeting his twin’s eyes.

Osamu straightens, giving Hinata the room to sit up between them. “Can’t blame me— you were takin’ too long.”

Atsumu chuckles, crawling closer to where Hinata sits on the bed. Hinata flinches, causing Atsumu to at least slow his approach, coming to kneel beside him. There’s a foreign kind of hunger in his eyes, one that has Hinata curling into himself, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes without his permission. Atsumu hums, one hand cupping his jaw, and brings his lips to Hinata’s face, kissing away the tears that escape. Hinata’s breath shakes through his chest as he exhales, the strangeness of Atsumu’s careful touch almost as odd as his reaction— warmth in the pit of his belly, hair standing on end. Slowly, Atsumu’s lips trail down his cheek, both hands moving to his waist as he presses open mouthed kisses to Hinata’s jaw, tongue tracing the sharp outline. And _oh,_ Hinata’s heart drops, because the heat of his breath on his neck is unreal, unlike anything he’s ever felt, and the warmth of his mouth against his throat is worth the rush of fear at having Atsumu so close. And why be scared, he wonders, when his hands spread out over his waist, holding him in every way he wants? 

Atsumu’s teeth graze over Hinata’s skin, nipping at his neck. It doesn’t hurt, on the contrary, makes Hinata sigh despite himself. He can’t understand _why_ he’s doing this, why he’s letting Atsumu do this, but can’t bring himself to make it stop. Atsumu sucks on his neck, a quiet noise escaping Hinata’s lips, burning his ears. Osamu hums beside him, and all that can be heard are the sounds escaping Hinata, ones he’s never made before, half exhales that catch in his throat as shivers travel down his spine. The pressure on his neck from Atsumu’s kiss forces him to tilt back his head, baring himself fully as his stomach stirs with something hotter than humiliation.

Atsumu pulls back, licking his lips and staring down at the angry red mark he’s left. Hinata’s eyes blink open just as Osamu leans in, pushing him down against the mattress as their lips connect, and Hinata can’t bring himself to worry about _why_ when it feels so right to be taken care of after so long. Osamu’s tongue smooths over the roof of his mouth and Hinata gets lost in him, hands lax by his head and legs shifting against the sheets. Osamu’s lips are soft, and the blankets beneath him are soft, and the palm of his hand pressed against the bare skin of Hinata’s torso is soft and _everything_ feels like the clouds drifting lazily across the late summer’s sky. Hinata doesn’t care about any of it, so long as he feels _good,_ so long as he is wanted.

When they part, Hinata honest to god _whines,_ shocking himself into silence. He can feel his blush traveling down to his chest, can feel both twins staring at him wide eyed in a moment of genuine surprise. Osamu leans back, taking one of Hinata’s hands into his own. He squeezes it, smile growing as Atsumu takes his place, both arms bracketing Hinata’s head as they meet for a kiss.

There’s a different kind of intensity to the way Atsumu moves, open mouthed and deep, sharp and fast where Osamu is slow. The same meticulous caution is there, but hidden behind is a force that sweeps Hinata up into his tempo. Atsumu swipes his tongue along Hinata’s lips and drags his bottom one between his teeth, and it's so much more than Hinata expected, chest swelling each time their lips meet. Atsumu kisses him deeper, tongue sliding against Hinata’s, enveloping him completely from all around. Distantly, as Atsumu traces over the tips of his teeth, Hinata wonders if this is what it’s like to be consumed. 

Osamu continues to rub the back of Hinata’s hand with his thumb, his free hand reaching between him and Atsumu to smooth down Hinata’s torso. He stops at his stomach, just above his navel, and rubs slow, languid circles, nails gently scratching at the skin. “You like this, don’t you?” he asks, and Hinata can’t answer with Atsumu kissing him and kissing him and kissing him, but hums in assent, feeling the desire grow from within. The heat under his skin rises with every touch, every kiss, and Hinata isn’t sure what to focus on as Osamu’s fingers skirt around his ribs. He shudders, and Osamu laughs, not mocking, but fond. “Does that feel good?”

Atsumu pulls back with a _smack,_ waiting for Hinata’s reaction. Panting, Hinata tries to catch his breath, eyes darting between the twins as his flush colours the tops of his shoulders. “Y-yes…” he admits, guilty for daring to want something so _selfish._

Osamu hums again, smile growing wider. His hand slowly begins to push up the thin material of Hinata’s top, until it bunches uselessly at his collarbone with his palm splayed on his sternum. “Sit up,” he says, and Hinata listens without fault as Atsumu pulls the shirt over his head, leaving his chest bare. Osamu pushes Hinata back down onto the bed as Atsumu tugs on the waistband of his pants, sliding them down his legs without much effort on either of their parts. 

He shivers, and Atsumu clicks his tongue twice. “Don’t you worry,” he says, hands beginning to wander Hinata’s chest as Osamu moves. “You’ll warm up soon.”

Before Hinata can begin to contemplate the state of his undress, Atsumu’s thumbs over his nipple, the sharp spark of pleasure jolting through Hinata. Atsumu’s grin widens at the small noise that escapes him, and quickly presses his thumb to the other, rubbing them in slow circles. The strange new sensation has Hinata shifting his legs beneath him, anticipation building from deep within his bones. As he begins to adapt to the new touch, Osamu leans over, tilting his head slightly so that they can kiss again. The angle is strange, and Hinata finds himself relying more and more on Osamu to lead, mind growing clouded. It’s as Atsumu pinches one nipple between his fingers that he gasps into the kiss, stirring Osamu on to press closer, the kiss growing slightly more frenzied.

Atsumu continues to tweak Hinata’s nipples until they stand pert on his chest, swollen from his ministrations. By now, Hinata can’t stay still, overwhelmed with the the twin sets of hands on his body, struggling to keep track of whose are whose. He feels one hand leave his nipple, tracing down his stomach and leaving goosebumps in its waist. It slips past his hip and comes to rest on top of his thin underwear, palming his crotch, and _oh,_ Hinata realizes, _I’m hard._

He must’ve frozen, because Osamu pulls away, Atsumu still continuing to rub him through his underwear as Hinata lets out a shaky exhale. _So this is what they want,_ he thinks, and sees the darkness, the _hunger_ in Osamu’s eyes as they rake over his body. 

“Why are you nervous? You’re doin’ so well, _Shouyou,”_ Osamu murmurs, and the way Hinata’s name falls from his lips has his hips pressing up against Atsumu’s hand involuntarily. He instantly presses his thighs together, cheeks aflame as he looks away from them both, squirming from the dual heat of their gaze.

“I— I— I’ve never done anything like this before…” he mumbles, embarrassed at the admission of his own inexperience.

Atsumu snickers, squeezing Hinata’s crotch. “You mean we get to pop your cherry?”

Hinata blushes further, wishing he could vanish amongst the pillows. Osamu just presses a kiss to his jaw, lips lingering by Hinata’s ear. “It’s alright,” he says, and Hinata shudders, the low dulcet tones of his voice traveling to the pit in his stomach. “You’re ours. All of your firsts belong to us.”

Hinata nods slowly, forcing himself to relax as Osamu winds his hand into Hinata’s again. He squeezes it, leaning over to the bedside table for a moment as Atsumu tucks his thumbs under his waistband. Hinata hears a drawer slide open, but quickly becomes occupied with the cool air on his dick and Atsumu’s smugness as he stares down at it.

“Cute,” he says, and Hinata tries not to be mortified.

Osamu returns, bumping shoulders with Atsumu as he slips his hand out of Hinata’s hold momentarily. Atsumu rolls his eyes, leaning back onto one elbow, and pops the buttons open on his shirt. Osamu holds a small vial of a mostly translucent liquid, popping off the cork and setting it onto the bedside. A light floral scent fills the air as he pours the liquid onto his fingers, spreading it around while maintaining eye contact.

“I’m gonna open you up so you’re ready for us,” Osamu tells him, discarding the vial so that he can interlock his clean hand with Hinata’s. “You can only come when we allow you to, okay?” Hinata nods, and Osamu hums. “Use your words.”

“Y-yes,” Hinata replies, voice wavering.

Osamu smiles, leaning closer. _“Good.”_

Hinata lets his legs fall open as Osamu reaches between their bodies, slipping his slick fingers along the underside of his thigh and around to cup his ass. It raises goosebumps on his bare skin, colder still when Osamu’s index finger begins to circle his entrance. Hinata reaches upwards to hold onto Osamu’s shoulder, steadying himself as he slowly teases at his entrance, pressing down but not quite in. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Atsumu beginning to remove his shirt, dropping it to the ground as he watches with wide eyes.

Osamu pushes the first finger in slowly, the intrusion strange and uncomfortable, but not quite painful. Hinata shifts as Osamu sinks it into the knuckle, pressing lightly on Hinata’s walls before beginning to push it in and out. Hinata’s muscles involuntarily contract around him, but the force lessens as time goes on, body high strung and searching for relief. Osamu rolls his hips against him, pulling his finger out entirely.

“I’m gonna use two now,” he says, pressing both fingertips against him. Hinata nods, swallowing with a throat gone dry.

The stretch is present now, the first ring of muscles fighting as Hinata’s body tenses. Osamu squeezes his hand, kissing his cheek as Hinata’s nose wrinkles, discomfort growing. Osamu is careful, taking his time, working his fingers in and out, going deeper each time. It takes a few minutes, but slowly, Hinata relaxes once more, eyes falling shut as the push and pull becomes almost enjoyable, a shuddery kind pleasure warming his gut. Osamu hums, continuing to slowly grind against him, and pushes his fingers into the knuckle, spreading them inside of Hinata. The stretch aches, but Hinata can take it, _wants_ to take it, squirms his hips against Osamu as his fingers curl inside of him to stroke his walls. Hinata’s dick twitches, moaning lightly as Osamu begins to finger him with a little more force, pushing deeper faster, crooking his fingers as he goes. 

Hinata’s entire body seizes up as his fingers press against something deep inside of him, the pressure behind his navel growing tenfold. The strangled note of surprise that cuts through his moan makes Osamu smirk, and he continues to press down, fingers moving in slow motions against it.

“You like that, huh?” he asks, lips brushing against Hinata’s jaw. “That’s your prostate. I can keep touchin’ it, if you want.”

 _“Ngh— ah—_ Osamu, _please,”_ Hinata manages to stammer, voice breaking through a moan as he pumps his fingers against it. His toes curl with the pleasure building inside of him, almost too much to bear. Osamu must see it in the slackness in his face, because he pulls his fingers out, leaving Hinata squeezing his thighs together in search of some other kind of relief.

“You can’t cum yet,” Osamu reminds him. “Not until I say so.”

Hinata whines, letting his legs fall back open as Osamu kisses his neck. Beside him, Atsumu chuckles. “Already so needy for it…”

Osamu licks his lips, three fingers pushing against Hinata’s entrance. There’s a moment of pain that quickly fades as Osamu continues with his motions, the added stretch building him back up to the precipice he was once at. Osamu fingers fuck him at a steady pace, the drag against his walls enough to make Hinata melt into the sheets, heady with his own pleasure. The soft moans falling from his lips grow louder every time Osamu presses his fingertips to his walls, curling them against his prostate and dragging them back and forth in short, deliberate motions. Hinata’s grip on Osamu’s hand grows tighter, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure swells in him, so close to falling over.

“You look like you’re close,” Osamu mumbles, each word drawn out, whispered in his ear. Hinata whimpers in response, reduced to moans instead of coherent sentences. Osamu kisses his neck, nuzzling into the crook. “You can cum now, Shouyou.”

And just like that, Hinata falls off the edge, back arching off the bed, cum splattering up onto his chest in thin ropes as Osamu massages his fingers against his prostate, working him through his orgasm until he begins to quiver. Only then does he slip his fingers out, wiping them on his pants, smiling down at an out of breath Hinata with a look of self satisfaction.

“There,” he says, squeezing Hinata’s hand before slipping away. “You’re all ready now.”

Atsumu hums, taking Osamu’s place on top of Hinata, pining his hips back down to the bed. “My turn,” he says, and his voice is dark and low and reministinct of something hazy in the afterglow that still makes Hinata shudder, a primal kind of fear rising as Atsumu removes his pants, gripping his stiff cock in one fist. Hinata pushes himself up and looks at it, stomach turning over in uncertainty as his own pleasure wears off, replaced with apprehension at the sight. Atsumu is _big,_ and as he smears oil over himself, Hinata finds his legs instinctively closing shut, shoulders caving inwards in shame.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Atsumu coos, still smirking. He slips a hand between Hinata’s legs to hold his thighs apart, ignoring his now soft cock as he lines himself up with Hinata’s entrance. 

“I— it won’t fit,” Hinata protests weakly, trying not to cower at the darkness in Atsumu’s eyes.

Atsumu hums. “It will,” he tells him, pushing his tip against the rim. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this, _Shouyou.”_

Hinata exhales, breath trembling, every nerve alight as Atsumu slowly presses, forearms bracketed on either side of Hinata’s head. The stretch burns at first, Atsumu much larger than Osamu’s fingers ever could be, and Hinata can only whimper, writhing underneath Atsumu as he completely envelops him. Atsumu doesn’t stop, slowly pushing in until he bottoms out, groaning as Hinata clenches down around him. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, forehead coming to rest against Hinata’s. “You’re so tight.”

Hinata whines, shifting as the pain begins to fade to a mild discomfort. Atsumu’s dick throbs inside of him, the room growing hotter with their combined breaths. Hinata holds his breath as Atsumu pulls out, beginning to move in short, shallow thrusts that rock Hinata further up the bed, the sensation strange and _good_ and so much more than simple fingering. Over sensitive from his first orgasm, Hinata shudders, dick beginning to stir again already. Atsumu pulls out further, rocking back in with more force, and Hinata moans, broken and sweet as Atsumu builds up a rhythm.

His thrusts grow emboldened with every sound Hinata makes, lips coming to press messy kisses on his throat as their skin hits with a loud _smack._ Hinata’s hands fist the sheets, eyes squeezed shut as Atsumu rolls his hips into him, humming low.

“You’re taking my cock so well,” he says, kisses below Hinata’s ear. Hinata rolls his hips down to meet Atsumu’s, the resulting pleasure making him fizzle, his toes curl.

“A-ah, Atsumu…” he mumbles, cheeks burning bright. A thin sheen of sweat covers his body, the build of pleasure unrelenting. His cock jumps against his stomach, and Atsumu grins, smug at the sight of Hinata squirming under him.

“Good boy,” he says, low and warm, thrusting into Hinata with quick, practiced movements. The praise travels directly to his dick, Hinata moaning as the validation washes over him. The pain aches deep inside of him, a soreness that Hinata can already feel building in his pelvis as his back arcs in every jolt of pleasure within. But Atsumu fucks him good, the feeling as warm as the slickness of skin on skin and as much as it hurts, Hinata _needs_ it. “You’re gonna make such a good whore.”

Hinata turns his cheek, pressing his face into the bedding as his eyes begin to water. Atsumu continues to fuck him, steady and deep, each thrust splitting him open on his cock as the bed begins to creak. Hinata blinks away the tears, inhaling sharply as he stares up at Osamu, who watches like predator with prey. He’s discarded all but his shirt, the buttons undone and flowing open as he slowly pumps his cock in one hand, watching as Hinata is fucked deeper and deeper into the mattress. “He’s right,” Osamu tells him, licking his lips. “You’re perfect for us, Shouyou.”

 _“Nnnn,”_ Hinata moans, tightening around Atsumu as he begins to move faster. “Atsumu…”

Atsumu kisses him, wet and sloppy, swallowing up Hinata’s moans as one hand reaches down to fist his dick. “One’s not enough, huh?” 

He leans forwards, the angle shifting, cock brushing against Hinata’s prostate as he thrusts. Hinata’s mouth falls open, words leaving him in the moment. Atsumu’s hand working his neglected dick is too much, is so good, is just what he needs and yet he _can’t,_ not without permission. He whines, high pitched and loud, bucking his hips uselessly as Atsumu rubs against his prostate. “Please… Atsumu… please…”

Atsumu grins, thrusts growing growing shallow. “I told you you’d beg,” he grunts, flicking his wrist. “Cum for me, then, since you asked so nicely.”

His orgasm is strange, a shudder that wracks his whole body as Atsumu continues to fuck him. The pleasure builds and builds only to release in a slow, shaky finish, one that leaves him twitching in overstimulation, limp against the pillows. Atsumu follows soon after, thrusts growing sloppy as he cums deep inside of him. They both pant, catching their breaths as the cum leaks down Hinata’s leg when Atsumu pulls out, staining the elegant bedding with more mess than it deserves. Atsumu leans back, leaving Hinata completely exposed, untouched, _vulnerable_ as his body begins to drag him towards exhaustion.

Slowly, Osamu leans up against him, kissing his forehead. Hinata can feel his dick pressing against his hip as Osamu ruts against him. His hands come to rest on Hinata hips, sliding over the protruding bones before forcing his thighs back open. Too weak to fight back, Hinata simply presses his face into Osamu’s neck, reaching up to clutch uselessly on the fabric of his shirt.

“T-too much,” he tells him as Osamu dick slides against his own, then between his cheeks.

Osamu hums, the tone dark. “You can take it,” he tells him, and there’s no room to argue. “Besides, I’m close just from watchin’ you.”

Hinata inhales, bracing himself as Osamu pushes in. There’s much less resistance now, but every push and pull against him makes Hinata twitch in overstimulation. Osamu pressed his hips flush to his ass in one smooth motion, holding Hinata close as he begins to move at a slow pace. It’s almost careful, akin to the way he cradles Hinata, rolling their hips together in a slow build that makes Hinata’s spent body continue to fizzle with pleasure. It’s steady, above all else, a constant movement of their bodies together, sweat slick and burning, Hinata melting further and further into the sheets every time Osamu thrusts against his abused prostate. It’s good and it’s too much and it _aches,_ makes Hinata’s muscle tighten and relax in a constant cycle, strained like his breathing. His dick sits half hard on his hip, slowly rising as Osamu kisses his neck.

“Look how good you are,” Osamu tells him, rubbing his thigh as he continues his torturously slow pace. “You’re still so tight, Shouyou… I think you _like_ gettin’ fucked senseless, hm?”

Hinata whimpers, nodding without question. Osamu laughs, hips jerking against his prostate again. The shudder travels through them both, their breaths heavy as Osamu kisses his neck. “Do you think you can cum again? For me?”

“Ah— Osamu— I can’t—”

“You can,” Osamu tells him, leaning closer, fucking him a little bit faster. “C’mon Shouyou, I know you can do it.”

Hinata feels a small dribble of precum splatter against his abdomen, the pressure behind his navel unbearable, spreading out towards his fingertips. Osamu’s thrusts grow faster, fucking him deep and it’s not long before Hinata cries out, cumming a third time in one night. It travels through him in a drawn out shudder, body tensing, clinging onto Osamu with all his might as his chest becomes a mess of his own making. He can feel Osamu growing close, his grip on his waist tighter than before, and the groan he makes as he cums makes Hinata twitch again, before falling back against the mattress and letting Osamu ride out the rest of his orgasm. Exhausted, all Hinata can do is lie there, waiting to be left alone.

Instead, he’s hoisted upwards and tucked under the covers, one of the twins hastily wiping the mess on his stomach and between his thighs before he’s settled beneath the sheets. The most comforting weight around him isn’t the blankets, but the arms that wrap around his waist as Osamu pulls him into his chest, letting Hinata fade in and out of consciousness curled up against him. As the world begins to go fuzzy, he faintly feels Atsumu tracing the lines on his shoulder, breath tickling the back of his neck, and for some reason, no fear rises from the depths of Hinata’s gut. When he wakes, he won’t be able to walk, and his hips will ache with the consequences of today, but for now, he settles into the only life left for him, holding onto the hope that this is where he’s meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYYYY YALL ITS THIS: TRASH AU. uhhhhhh didnt think wed post it but here we are. it make take a lil bit to sort out the rest of the smut scenes we have written but they sure are there. anyways have fun!  
> -kj
> 
> \--
> 
> hey guys bringing some dont like dont read content to the haikyuu fandom. this isnt our first time around the block but it sure is our longest and most explicit. hope you enjoyed the beginning. from hereon out its just smut tho, maybe a bit of character development here and there, but mostly smut.  
> -mooks


	2. cherry pit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut tags: humiliation, orgasm denial

Hinata watches Osamu exit the bedchambers, dressed in finery to conduct whatever business his duty has for him today. It’s early in the morning still, and Atsumu has yet to rise from bed, still holding Hinata tight against his chest from behind. Though he told Osamu there wasn’t anything he had to do that couldn’t be accomplished from the comfort of his quarters, Hinata wonders if he were completely forthright, or if he simply wished to stay in the comfort of bed. Either way, Hinata is alone— alone with Atsumu, that is, and that in itself is a strange place to be. The anxiety of loneliness, while quelled by his presence, makes way for a new kind of sinking dread. Hinata lies awake in his unease, only comforted by the heat of Atsumu’s body against his own. But he can’t help the tightening of his muscles as Atsumu’s hand smooths over his chest, shuddering as his breath tickles the back of his neck.

“Why so tense, Shouyou?” he asks, voice still somewhat groggy from sleep. Both twins aren’t early risers, leaving Hinata and his strange body clock awake for long stretches of time in their arms each morning. He presses his face into the crook of Hinata’s neck, inhaling deeply. “It’s just you and me.”

Hinata doesn’t respond, a brief rush tingling down his neck at the contact. Atsumu chuckles, and the vibrations rumble through him, dark and as warm as his touch. Atsumu pulls him in a little closer, pressing a kiss to his neck as he does. It’s soft at first, but Atsumu never stays gentle. The brush of lips against his skin turns into an open mouthed kiss at the crook of his jaw, Atsumu sucking hard enough for Hinata to jolt in surprise. Atsumu holds him steady, strong arms keeping him from squirming as he kisses down his neck, leaving a bruise by his jaw. 

“You’re so sensitive here,” Atsumu mumbles, teeth scraping along his neck.

“Mmm…” Hinata hums in reply, leaning back against Atsumu. The kisses leave a fluttering feeling in his chest, so easily brought on by a few kisses. He presses his cheek further into the pillow, unable to fully hide the blush that rises on his cheeks. He doesn’t like how easily Atsumu can play him, how observant he can be when it comes to figuring out all the ways to take Hinata apart. 

Atsumu pulls back, rolling Hinata onto his back before coming to rest on top of him. His hair has a slight wave, the humidity of the rainy season leaving the strands wild after a long night’s rest. He runs a hand through it, and Hinata watches as his well defined muscles stretch through the motion. Atsumu’s eyes come back to rest on Hinata, his hands pushing up his chest until they reach his arms. Slowly, Atsumu raises them above Hinata’s head, gripping his wrists with one hand. With that, he leans down, bringing their lips together.

There’s a greediness to Atsumu’s kiss that cuts through the slow pace of his early morning stupor. He presses his body flush to Hinata’s as he kisses him, pinning his arms down with enough force that Hinata’s sure it’d be a struggle to break free— not that he’d ever try now. Atsumu’s lips move against his, pushing forward like the tide as he holds him down. It’s wet, the kisses open mouthed and hot with their shared breath. Hinata tries to meet him, only to be overpowered in force.

Atsumu deepens the kiss with his tongue, shifting against Hinata. The outline of his cock presses down against Hinata’s hip, making his desire known. Atsumu’s tongue slides alongside his own, and Hinata moans against him. Atsumu swipes his tongue along the roof of his mouth before pulling back, sucking on Hinata’s bottom lip. He pulls it between his teeth, worrying the flesh as his free hand slides up Hinata’s thigh. His lips drag back down Hinata’s jaw, his hips rolling against Hinata’s. A soft gasp leaves Hinata, his own arousal rapidly stirring.

“Mm, you like that, don’tcha?” Atsumu asks, letting his lips brush along the shell of Hinata’s ear. He runs his tongue along the outside, biting down onto his lobe. “Not so tense now, huh?”

The low tones of Atsumu’s voice so close to Hinata’s ear has him stuttering, small shudders racing down his neck. Atsumu sucks his earlobe into his mouth, sloppily kissing where it meets his jaw. An embarrassingly high pitched moan leaves Hinata, and if his hands were free, he’d cover his mouth in shock at his own reaction. All he can do is blush even further, turning his cheek when Atsumu looks down at him in surprise.

“You _really_ like that, huh?” he says, smirking. Hinata tries to sink into the pillows and vanish, Atsumu quick to press another kiss to his ear. Hinata whines, unable to move away. His breath hitches as the soft, wet sounds of Atsumu’s lips travel directly to his ear, close and all encompassing. Hinata squirms, thrusting his now hard dick up against Atsumu’s hip as Atsumu continues to tease him with kisses to his ear. His tongue dips further experimentally, and Hinata twitches, not sure if he wants to pull away or feel _more._

“Holy shit,” Atsumu mumbles, voice deep as kisses Hinata’s ear. He slides his free hand over Hinata’s thinly clothed erection. “You’re fuckin’ hard just from this?”

“Ah—Atsumu…” Hinata says, voice small. Atsumu licks his ear again before kissing along his jaw. He makes his way over to Hinata’s other ear, nipping at the lobe again. Hinata turns his head to the other side, embarrassed at how quickly Atsumu’s low hum can make him melt. He succumbs to it, letting Atsumu continue to kiss his ear and elicit breathy, quiet moans, no louder than the wet sounds of Atsumu’s mouth.

When Atsumu pulls away, Hinata is panting, his face red, flushed all the way down his chest. Atsumu releases his wrists, dragging his fingertip down Hinata’s sternum and parting the robe as he does. “Awfully needy now, hm?”

Hinata stays silent, shifting underneath Atsumu as he continues to part his robe. The knot tying it shut has already begun to slip, and with one tug, it comes loose. Atsumu pushes the fabric aside, revealing Hinata’s cock, pressed up against his stomach. Atsumu stares for a few moments, just to see Hinata squirm, before sliding his hands higher. Slowly, he begins to push the fabric from his shoulders, down his arms, until it lies useless beneath him, Hinata bare and exposed at last. Atsumu drags his nails back down Hinata’s chest, ignoring how he squirms.

Atsumu places his hands onto Hinata’s hips. His fingers splay out across them, thumbs almost touching but hands not quite close enough to where Hinata wants them most. His eyes rake across Hinata’s body, dark and hungry, tongue darting out to lick his lips. He brushes his fingertips over Hinata’s dick, light and teasing, smile growing into a grin.

“Everything about you really _is_ small,” he taunts, wrapping his hand around his dick. “Even when it's hard, your cock is so tiny.”

Humiliation wells in Hinata’s chest as he looks away, tensing his shoulders. “I—it’s not _that_ small,” he protests weakly, 

Atsumu raises an eyebrow. “Really?” he snickers. He reaches into his pants, pulling out his cock from the confines of his satin sleepwear. He strokes it leisurely, cocking his head. “You really think so?”

Hinata raises his hands to his cheeks, attempting to cool them off and cover his face from Atsumu’s gaze. “You… you’re just… big…” 

Atsumu laughs, hand leaving his cock to grip Hinata’s waist. He tightens his other hand’s grip on Hinata’s dick, jerking him off at a slow pace. Hinata’s nose wrinkles, the much needed friction building more pleasure behind his navel. He drops one arm to the sheets, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow as a puff of air leaves his lungs. Atsumu is quick to pry it away, holding Hinata’s wrist by his head as he continues to pump his hand over Hinata’s cock.

“Don’t hide from me,” he says, voice dipping into a deeper, more commanding tone. Hinata shivers, sinking further into the sheets as he nods, somewhat meekly. Atsumu twists his wrist, drawing a sharp moan from Hinata and his fist grips the sheets tighter, the sudden pressure in his stomach undeniable. Atsumu smirks as he gasps, speeding up his movements as Hinata struggles to keep himself still. His grip tightens, and Hinata squeezes his eyes shut. It doesn’t take much more than Atsumu leaning forwards and pressing a kiss by his ear for Hinata to cum with a small, arching his back and making a mess of Atsumu’s hand. 

Almost instantly after, Atsumu pulls away, not letting Hinata bathe in his afterglow before grabbing his chin. “So needy you couldn’t wait for permission?” he growls, nails digging into Hinata’s skin. “Did you forget the rules, or are you too much of a slut to care?”

Hinata opens his eyes, breath caught in his chest as he stares up at Atsumu, at the anger in his eyes. “I— I’m sorry, Atsumu, I didn’t mean to—”

Atsumu sneers. “Oh really? Then prove it and clean up your mess.” 

He leans back, raising his cum splattered hand to Hinata’s mouth. Hinata stares at it, hesitating for a moment before opening his mouth and licking a stripe up his palm. He tries not to grimace at the bitter taste of himself, lapping up the mess from Atsumu’s hand with broad strokes of his tongue. When he comes to the fingers, Atsumu presses them forwards, into the heat of Hinata’s mouth. He presses down on Hinata’s tongue, and Hinata sucks around them, embarrassment creeping up from his stomach as the slurping sounds of him cleaning Atsumu’s hand fill the room. He pushes them deeper, pushing them along Hinata’s tongue until he gags, only then yanking them out and wiping the excess saliva onto his chest as Hinata coughs, tears pricking his eyes.

“So you’re good for somethin’ after all,” he mutters. “Lapping up messes like a dog. Maybe you should say _woof_ from now on.”

Hinata swallows, the taste still lingering in his mouth. Atsumu grins at the shame that wells up in Hinata’s eyes. He leans in to slot their lips together, kissing Hinata despite the smears of cum still stuck to his lips. It’s messy and hot, and Atsumu’s hands are quick to roam over his body, raising goosebumps as they go. Atsumu sucks on Hinata’s bottom lip until the flesh is plump and swollen. Slowly, those lips make their way into the crook of Hinata’s neck, sucking marks onto his skin while he grinds down against him. Hinata _likes_ the hickies left on his skin, likes the little reminders. It isn't something he has the nerve to say out loud, to admit of his own free will, but as long as the twins seem eager to mark him as _theirs,_ he assumes he won’t need to beg for it.

Atsumu’s hands wander up to his chest, fingers slowly beginning to circle his nipple. He pinches down on one and mirrors it with a bite, Hinata gasping at the tiny shocks of pain that fizzle into pleasure. Atsumu rolls the bud between his fingers until it hardens, lips wandering towards his collarbone and lower still. Eventually, they come to wrap around his other nipple, teeth brushing against the sensitive flesh. Hinata arcs his back up towards Atsumu’s mouth as he begins to suck, the strangeness of the sensation quick to fade into a growing need. 

“Are you hard again already?” Atsumu asks, sliding a hand down to cup Hinata’s stiffening cock. He squeezes, and Hinata twitches, sensitive and raw. “Needy bitch.”

 _“ Ngh—_ Atsumu…” Hinata whines, squirming under him. 

_“Shouyou,_ _”_ he taunts, echoing Hinata’s tone. He wraps his hand around Hinata’s dick again, pumping it slowly. He presses a kiss to one of his bruises and bites the tender flesh. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

Hinata tries to still himself, tries not to jerk away when Atsumu’s thumb teases the head of his cock. Atsumu continues to press kisses to his neck, snickering at every needy sound that slips past Hinata’s lips. His skin burns with his own blush, dusting him pink from his ears to his navel, and Hinata feels so _small_ pinned to the bed like this. Atsumu’s hand on his cock isn’t what he wants, really, but it's _good_ and enough for his body to build back up in pleasure. Hinata twists the sheets in his fists and bites down on his lip, eyes screwed shut, toes beginning to curl, when Atsumu lets go. Hinata opens his eyes, brows still pinched together, and watches Atsumu sit back onto his thighs, smirking in the dangerous sort of way. 

“We haven’t even gotten started yet,” Atsumu tells him, one hand sliding up his thigh. He squeezes his leg and leans over towards the bedside table to fetch the vial of lube resting there. Hinata eyes it nervously, pulling his arms into his chest as Atsumu pulls out the stopper with his teeth. He spits the cork onto the bed, letting the subtle fragrance of roses fill the space as he pours the oil over his fingers. Atsumu uses his clean hand to pry Hinata’s arms away from himself, leaning over his as he forces his legs apart with his knee. With a deep breath, Hinata attempts to relax himself, loosening his muscles to lessen the discomfort to come. 

There’s no caution to Atsumu’s movements. He pushes two fingers in all the way to the knuckle in one smooth motion just to see Hinata hiss, cringing at the intrusion. The oil is cold against his insides and the stretch isn’t what Hinata expected, but Atsumu hardly does anything to Hinata’s expectations. He kisses Hinata’s wince off of his lips and slides his fingers in and out, in and out, repeating the motions until Hinata becomes desensitized to the ache. They curl inside of him and drag against his walls as he pulls them out, and Hinata can’t deny that Atsumu has a way with his hands.

Hinata moans against Atsumu’s lips, letting his legs fall open wider. Atsumu pushes his tongue past Hinata’s parted lips and pushes his fingers in deeper, rougher with his movements now that Hinata has begun to unwind. His fingers pump in and out of Hinata’s, the slide heating him from the inside, making Hinata’s chest flutter. Atsumu’s fingertips _just_ brush his prostate as he opens him up, always a tease. Hinata tries to push his hips down to meet Atsumu’s fingers and is held back, Atsumu pinning him to the bed with his own body. The weight on top of Hinata is welcomed, surrounding him in warmth to counter the shudders of pleasure that run through him. 

Atsumu pulls his fingers out, replacing them with a third. Hinata’s breath hitches, body pushing against them as Atsumu moves them deeper inside. His fingers curl, knuckles rubbing against his prostate, and Hinata can’t help but reach out and grab Atsumu’s shoulder to steady himself. Atsumu shoves his fingers in again, pressing them down against Hinata’s prostate before returning to his usual forceful rhythm.

“Are you close now?” he asks, smiling against Hinata’s skin. He lifts his head from the crook of Hinata’s neck to watch him nod. Hinata’s stomach begins to twist, breaths growing faster. He lets his eyes fall shut, holding onto Atsumu’s shoulder tight enough that small white spots form where his skin meets Hinata’s fingertips. Atsumu moves a little faster and Hinata lets his mouth fall open, ready to succumb to sensation when Atsumu’s hand leaves his hip to wrap around the base of his cock, squeezing _hard._ His fingers stop moving, and Hinata feels the fluttering sensation fade from his stomach, unrealized. As he opens his eyes, he’s met with the sight of Atsumu, face split into a grin and eyes darkened. 

“You think I’m gonna give it to you that easy?” Atsumu says, voice low, deep. “After you didn’t follow the rules?”

Hinata’s heart sinks into his stomach. Every inch of his skin burns, heart pounding, mind beginning to spin. He _knows_ he only has himself to blame, but Atsumu’s gaze always makes it worse, always makes him feel like the scum on the bottom of his shoe.

“A-Atsumu…” Hinata whispers, not sure what else to say. 

The hand on his cock begins to move with a loose grip in tedious strokes. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you cum again,” he murmurs, letting his lips ghost the shell of Hinata’s ear. “Will you be good, Shouyou?”

Hinata exhales, breath shaking. “I—I’ll be good.”

Atsumu grins, grip on Hinata’s dick getting tighter. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Hinata leans back into the bed, hand falling away from Atsumu’s shoulder. Atsumu’s fingers move in tandem with the hand on his cock, a feat of coordination Hinata would be in awe of if not for the mind numbing feeling of it all. His fingers come to press up against his prostate, each small thrust hitting the nerves and sending Hinata into a fit of trembles. His moans fill the room, broken and louder with every moment Atsumu spends massaging him from the inside. 

Atsumu swipes his thumb over the head of Hinata’s cock, twisting his wrist as his strokes pick up speed. Hinata’s hips jerk against his own volition as he tries to push down onto Atsumu’s fingers and up into his palm at the same time. He thrusts his fingers inside Hinata, oil squelching, hitting his prostate hard enough that a cry breaks through Hinata’s moans. It’s _too much_ and yet he wants _more,_ because Atsumu seems content to hold him near the edge and wait for as long as it takes.

Shifting uselessly against the blankets, Hinata arches his back up against Atsumu’s chest, settling for bringing himself as close as possible to him. The heat radiating from his body is immense, and Hinata soaks it up, legs opening wider with every second Atsumu’s fingers spend circling his prostate. He’s sure his agape mouth could catch flies, but can’t bring himself to care. Atsumu’s hand on his dick tightens and he’s so close, the building pressure behind his navel swelling in size. His moans grow shorter, climbing in pitch, and instead of stopping, Atsumu works him faster. Finally, Hinata feels close enough to let go, Atsumu’s name on the tip of his tongue, when he abruptly yanks his fingers out and lets go, starving off Hinata’s orgasm again. This time, Hinata whines, reaching up to pull on his own hair. He can feel the beginnings of tears welling in his eyes, frustration gripping him as Atsumu wipes his fingers on the sheets.

“I think you’re ready now,” Atsumu says, grabbing the vial. Hinata watches him kick off his pants, dick swollen and red as he smears it with oil. “You want it, Shouyou?”

Hinata blinks the tears out of his eyes, not trusting his own voice. He nods, watching Atsumu’s eyes darken.

“Alright then,” he grins. He reaches forwards, hooking his arms under Hinata’s knees and folding them against his chest so that his legs rest atop Atsumu’s shoulders. He’s flexible, but being folded in half so roughly aches, hamstrings pulled taunt and toes brushing against the headboard. Manhandled and completely exposed, Hinata whimpers. Atsumu lowers his face to Hinata’s, forcing the stretch further, and with one rough thrust of his hips, sinks in to the hilt, Hinata’s eyes shooting open.

 _“Ah— ahh—_ _Atsumu!”_ Hinata shouts, split open, hands twisting in the sheets. 

Atsumu laughs, hips snapping against Hinata’s. “Filthy fuckin’ cockslut,” he says, brushing his lips to Hinata’s ear. “Takin’ me so good. You were _made_ for this.”

Hinata bites his lip, tears pricking in his eyes. Atsumu’s pace is rough, hard and fast, balls slapping against Hinata’s ass as he buries his cock inside of him. Positioned like this, his dick sinks deeper inside of Hinata. The slide of Atsumu’s dick is unrelenting. There’s nowhere for Hinata to go, held in place, bent in half. Muscles shaking, Hinata lets his head fall back onto the pillow. The sounds he makes are broken and strained, half formed words and noises that deepen his own shame at his action.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, squeezin’ my dick,” Atsumu rasps. “Look at you. You’re _droolin’.”_

Hinata licks his lips, suddenly aware of the spittle that cools his cheek. He blushes impossibly further, overwhelmed by the filth Atsumu spews, by his own lewd image. Atsumu drives his dick in deeper, squeezing Hinata’s thigh with one hand as he does. Hinata’s cock bobs against his stomach with every thrust, leaking with desire and begging to be touched. Through the haze surrounding him, Hinata weakly snakes an arm down his chest to grab it, only for Atsumu to smack it away.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls. “You cum on my cock or you ain’t cummin’ at all.”

Hinata’s hand falls to his side, a broken cry leaving his hoarse throat. Atsumu pounds into him, relentless, chasing his own pleasure as much as Hinata. Beads of sweat form at his hairline, and the sight of his muscles flexing is undeniably attractive, a sign of strength they both know Atsumu possesses. Hinata can feel himself growing closer to the edge with every thrust that slams up against his prostate, with every puff of breath into his ear. 

_“Nnn,_ c-close,” Hinata manages to stutter out, voice jumping in pitch as he moans.

Atsumu reaches down to squeeze the base of Hinata’s cock, holding it as he continues to fuck him. “Not yet, Shouyou,” he taunts, watching tears well in Hinata’s eyes. Hinata sniffles, breath catching in his throat as the tears spill over, trailing down his cheeks. Something in Atsumu’s expression darkens at the sight of it, his thrusts growing faster. Hinata feels almost sick with tension, dick painfully hard and body aching as shocks of pleasure wrack through it. The slap of skin against his skin is no louder than his own pulse in his ears, hammering yet not loud enough to drown out his whimpers. Atsumu leans forwards, and the slight change in angle is enough for his cock to drive against his prostate, sending Hinata into a fit of shudders as he tries to restrain himself.

Suddenly, without warning, Atsumu stops, cock still buried deep inside Hinata. He’s panting, but not nearly as much as Hinata, who sobs as his orgasm drifts away once more. Hinata clenches and feels his cock throb inside of him. His tears blur his vision as Atsumu leans down, pressing their foreheads together and forcing Hinata’s legs to bend further.

“A—ah—Atsumu…” Hinata cries, unable to move, to gain any kind of relief.

Atsumu laughs, and although it’s strained, it sends a shiver down Hinata’s spine. “What? Ain’tcha gonna beg? Or do you not wanna act like the whore you are?”

Hinata moans through his tears, unable to hold back the effect of Atsumu’s words

Atsumu raises a brow. “You like that? Gettin’ off on bein’ told how you’re mine? My pretty little fuck-thing?”

“P-please,” Hinata stammers, reaching a hand between the mess of his own limbs to wipe his eyes. “I need— just— _please.”_

Atsumu hums, rolling his hips against Hinata’s. “That’s good enough,” he tells him, beginning to pick back up his earlier pace. “For now,” he adds, too low for Hinata to hear as he falls back into the rush of pleasure.

They’re both close by now, Atsumu’s thrusts growing wilder and wilder. His grip on the base of Hinata’s dick is all that keeps him from cumming. The tears on his cheeks begin to dry, body growing tired, weak. Atsumu’s cock continues to ram up against his prostate, dragging in and out of him again and again and _again_ until Hinata is twitching on the bed, every muscle seized. Atsumu dips his head against Hinata’s, hips stuttering, and through the tears still blurring his eyes, Hinata watches him crack a smile.

“Cum for me,” he murmurs, and releases his hand.

Hinata’s orgasm hits him before he even realizes it’s happening, a rush of pleasure that shoots through his chest and to the tips of his toes. He goes rigid as he cums, the mess shooting up onto his chest as his dick throbs with relief. He can feel Atsumu’s hips stutter, the hot rush of cum inside of him an afterthought to the mind numbing experience of his own orgasm.

Slowly, he begins to melt into the sheets, limbs of lead going limp. Atsumu fucks him through his own orgasm and then stills, catching his breath as Hinata’s eyes flutter shut. It hurts for his legs to be maneuvered off of Atsumu’s shoulders, the sharpness of the pain secondary to the ache deep in hips. Still, for all of his rough actions, Atsumu lays him back down, grabbing a stray handkerchief to wipe up the cum that has been splattered on Hinata’s chest and spills out of his spent hole.

Eventually, Atsumu flops down next to him, pulling Hinata close as to have him rest his head onto his chest. Hinata can’t be bothered to move, doesn’t have the strength to try. Atsumu rests his chin on top of Hinata’s head, letting out a deep sigh of content.

“I think we can stay in bed a little longer, hm?” he tells him, holding him tight. “I think you earned a little bit of company for being such a good whore.”

Hinata nods, sleep already tugging at his vision. Exhaustion takes over before he can process the praise behind Atsumu’s words, before he can count the number of bruises lining his skin. The world fades away, and Hinata, finally sated, lets it, if only just for now, feeling something akin to _wanted_ in Atsumu’s arms.

—

When Hinata wakes, Atsumu has already retreated to his study, finally called by the work that binds him. He’s not alone, though. Perched on the bed next to him is Osamu, the long, sheer sleeves of his robe draping over his chest as he strokes Hinata’s hair. Hinata likes the many layers on him, the jingling jewels that shine on his ears and the deep red mantle that drapes all the way to the floor. As Hinata comes to, Osamu smiles, moving his hand down to cup Hinata’s cheek.

“‘Tsumu sure did a number on you,” he notes, taking in the bruises littered on his neck. “He made quite the mess of your neck, didn’t he?”

Hinata nods, pushing himself up. He hisses, the pain in his lower half apparent once more. Osamu is quick to wrap his arms around his shoulders, cooing softly as he props Hinata up against the multitude of pillows on the bed. “There you go. No need to be movin’ around now.”

“Thank you,” Hinata says, leaning back into the pillows. He shyly presses his legs together, aware of his own state of undress that Osamu seems to be unfazed by. He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a tray holding an enormous amount of assorted fruits cut into delicate shapes, a cup of some kind of tea balanced beside it.

“Thought we could eat some lunch together,” Osamu tells him, plucking a bushel of grapes from the arrangement. He pulls one away from the others, popping it into his mouth. “Take your pick. The lychee is especially good this time of year.”

Hinata stares down at the exotic fruits, picking out one after the other and savouring the taste of each on his tongue. He’s hungry, and the fruit provides the sugar needed for him to perk back up, eyes brightening as Osamu talks idly of his day. The drink turns out to be a sweetened tea with lemon, kind on his throat and warming him from the inside. Osamu eyes follow him as he tips it to his mouth, draining it in a matter of minutes. When Hinata sets the glass down, he’s holding out a slice of pear, just inches away from Hinata’s lips.

“Say ah,” he says, and Hinata, without thinking, obeys, opening his mouth and letting Osamu place the fruit inside. Together, they’ve managed to clean up the entire platter, nothing left now but a few cherry pits and stems. Hinata swallows the pear and smiles, leaning back against the pillows as Osamu moves the tray out of the way.

“Good,” Osamu tells him, and Hinata’s cheeks instantly flush, his shoulders rising in the way they always do when he’s bashful. Osamu reaches out and strokes his cheek, brushing his thumb against Hinata’s lips. “Did you like the fruits? Harvest season ain’t for another few weeks, but the early crops have been great.”

Hinata nods. “I like the cherries,” he tells him, noting the dark stain on Osamu’s lips from the fruit in question.

At that, Osamu’s eyes brighten. “So do I,” he answers, hand dropping to Hinata’s shoulder. “Have you figured out what foods are your favourite?”

Hinata pauses, caught off guard. “You want to know what food I like?”

Osamu nods. “Of course I do. Everyone’s happiest when they’re full of their favourite food,” he tells him, voice lilted in genuine curiosity. “I like anything. ‘Tsumu hates spicy food, but loves sweets. You like cherries, but what else?”

Hinata stops to think, furrowing his brow. The Miya twins have been feeding him for long enough that his memories of tasting most foods are far away. What he’s been fed since coming to live in their chambers have been elegant meals, but practical, with enough variety that he doesn’t get bored. Hinata is thankful for it, would be thankful if it were just plain rice.

“I like savoury stuff,” Hinata says, finally landing on an answer. “And eggs. I… don’t know how I feel about spicy stuff.”

“I’ll get the kitchen to make you something different for dinner,” Osamu says, leaning forward to kiss the furrow between Hinata’s brows. “You can tell me if you like it or not.”

Hinata smiles, perking up. “I— I’d like that! Thank you, Osamu— I’m really excited to try it,” he says, heart fluttering inside his chest.

Osamu pulls back, looking down at him for a few moments, eyes flicking over him. “You’re still hungry?”

Hinata shakes his head. “Nope, just… excited to see what you choose for me to try. I wanna figure out what you like. Is— is that strange?”

Osamu blinks twice before his smile starts to show again. “I guess not,” he says. With a soft hum, he leans forwards and kisses Hinata, cupping his cheek. There’s no rush to his movements, the kiss lingering before he presses another, and another, each one as slow as soft as the last. Hinata reaches his arms around Osamu, underneath his mantle, enjoying the weight of the fabric and Osamu against him. 

Osamu lets his tongue brush against Hinata’s lips, holding him steady. Hinata enjoys the languid pace of their lips together, of Osamu’s hand on his chin, of every little tingle that comes from his touch. His tongue slips into Hinata’s mouth, only seeking to get closer, to brush against Hinata before drawing back, all in service of a kind of softness that makes Hinata feel at peace.

They kiss like that for a few minutes longer, Hinata’s chapped lips chasing the taste of cherry, until Osamu pulls back, glancing over to the grandfather clock leaning up against the wall. “I gotta meet with someone,” he says, slipping his hand from Hinata’s cheek. It lingers on his shoulder, his eyes meeting Hinata’s in a long gaze before he stands. “You’ll be waitin’ for me to come back, won’tcha?” Hinata nods quickly, and Osamu smiles further. “Good… ain’t it nice, knowin’ how much you’re wanted?”

Hinata’s breath catches in his throat, cheeks dusting rose before he can reply. Osamu’s smile is wry, as telling as his eyes, shrouded in mystery as he makes his way towards the doors. Hinata watches him go, chest squeezing with something inexplicable, something not quite fear. Osamu casts one wordless look over his shoulder before slipping outdoors, locking the door behind him with a soft _click._ And Hinata sits among the pillows in his bed, touching his own lips and remembering the kiss he left there, already counting the seconds until either twin returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!!! welcome back to trash au ft. some more porn!!! this is not the prewritten stuff bcuz we decided to sprinkle in some more stuff because why tf not. anyways!!! have fun. AND THANKS FOR THE RESPONSE ON THE FIRST CHAP!!  
> -kj
> 
> \--
> 
> mooks here! id apologize for the short chapter, but like we said previously, this fic doesnt really have a cohesive narrative and is more just a drabble collection from hereon out with the bare bones of plot and character development. theres not really a "story" to tell, but there is a development of sorts as time goes on. also, the response we got on the beginning was absolutely phenomenal! all of your comments absolutely warmed our hearts! thank you guys so much for your support!  
> -mooks


	3. misnomer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut tags: mild choking/gagging, mild facefucking

The covers of the Miya twins’ bed are silken and smooth, cool under Hinata's fingertips as he runs them up and down the sheets. He knows that underneath, they are weighted, that they can surround him with warmth and a sense of security not found elsewhere in the castle. Hinata has begun to anticipate a different kind of weight on his body these days— now is not so different.

Osamu holds Hinata in his lap, arms curled around his torso so that his hands, large and calloused, can splay across Hinata's bare stomach. His top is sheer, as most of his clothes are, covering half his chest, his arms, and not much else. Osamu doesn't complain, drawing circles on his skin and resting his nose on Hinata's neck.

But Atsumu— oh, _Atsumu._

Atsumu sits underneath Hinata, Hinata’s legs spread wide across his lap, partially in hope to grind down against him and partially because Osamu went through the trouble of making sure he sits _properly._ Atsumu kisses him, too slow for Hinata's liking, not close enough to be the pressure he needs right now. He could reach out and pull him closer, but he treasures his arms the way they are and doesn't want to give up the ability to twist his hands in the sheets just yet. Atsumu licks the roof of his mouth and every point of his teeth, and Osamu's hands are still running up and down Hinata's chest. They're soon accompanied by a second pair, one that follows the actions and stops whenever Hinata gets too distracted, whenever his mind begins to wander.

He focuses on nothing else, just Atsumu, teeth gnawing on his lip, breath hot on his cheek, hands mirrored by his brother’s as they slip down his stomach, and he can _feel_ their heartbeats, the one behind him stronger and thumping through him, keeping time for the chaos of touch.

 _“Osamu,”_ Hinata whines against Atsumu's lips.

In that moment, he knows he fucked up, already knowing his error the moment the name leaves his tongue.

A chuckle sounds behind him as two of the hands on his chest freeze. “‘Tsumu, he's sayin’ my name and I'm barely touchin’ him.”

Atsumu looks up through brown lashes with eyes piercing cold and wide— no longer hooded with the allure of lust or sensuality. No, now his nose twitches the way it does when he's dissatisfied. Now his lips tug up once in sadistic mock offence as he sits up and looks down, down, down at Hinata.

"Playin' favourites?" he asks, near sneering, tone walking the line of teasing and mean. It's hard enough to distinguish and Hinata knows he needs to answer but all that leaves his throat is a half whimper, half strangled moan because Atsumu is looking at him and _looking at him_ and doing very little else. Hinata is aware of how Osamu still circles the pads of his thumbs on his bare skin and the warm breath fanning on his neck. It makes him shiver and makes Atsumu’s eyes glint as he cups a hand to Hinata's face.

"Answer me," he says lowly, and it seems almost soft if not for the undertone of danger that sweeps Hinata up and makes his heart race.

"Yes," is what he says, quick, without hesitation. Only, it comes out like _y-y-e-es_ because Osamu has put those large, spindly hands on his ribs and has begun walking his fingers up and down each bone.

Atsumu _grins_ like the cat who caught the canary and slips his hands from Hinata's chin, releasing the hold and brushing his fingers down over his lips and down his neck and down down down to rest at his stomach. Hinata lets his back arch only for the hand to vanish and for Atsumu to tut in the way he does whenever Hinata does something wrong. 

"Did I say you could move?" he asks, and juts out his chin with eyes still fixed on Hinata's, the rumble of Osamu’s chuckle vibrating through him from behind as those hands, _his_ hands grip tighter on his waist to hold him in place.

Hinata gulps and watches as Atsumu’s grin widens at the spark in his eyes and how he complies, how he shifts only once more before freezing entirely. He knows that his word is law, knows that Atsumu holds the lock and the chain all in one hand and has long since forgotten about the rusted key. So, Hinata stills and waits, meeting Atsumu’s eyes with a body electric and fire burning somewhere inside of his chest.

He briefly considers begging, but is rewarded with Atsumu finally, _finally_ leaning down and parting his lips, kissing the side of Hinata’s neck opposite to Osamu. Hinata’s breath stutters and hitches but he doesn't move any part of his body aside from his chest, rising and falling with every strained inhale-exhale combo that becomes interrupted when Atsumu bites down.

Hinata cries out, short and sweet, and instinctively rises slightly. He’s met with Osamu’s arms pulling him closer in a vice grip and Atsumu’s hand rough on his shoulder, gripping him there while his teeth leave indentations along the perimeter of bruised skin.

"Did I say you could move?" he repeats in a murmur, tongue licking a strip all the way to Hinata’s ear. Hinata stammers out something that sounds just enough like _no_ to pass by Atsumu’s standards as he begins to lick the shell of Hinata’s ear. "Do you like this?"

"Yes," Hinata chokes out, entire body pulled tight like a bow string as Atsumu’s hand pulls against the strap of his pants. 

"Who makes you feel like this?" he asks, voice louder, rougher.

"You," Hinata answers, because it's the right answer and the one he needs to hear and the one that will get him the much desired outcome of agreeing to lie in their bed in the first place.

"And who am I, Shouyou?" And now they're face to face, with Atsumu pressing their foreheads together so that Hinata can see the fire burning desire in his eyes. Hinata wants to shift away from the gaze, wants to close his eyes, but _can’t_ for fear of whatever could come afterwards. He curls his toes and heaves in another breath of stolen air and whispers—

_“Atsumu—”_

And Atsumu hums. "Who?"

"Atsumu," Hinata answers again, louder, voice catching and pleading.

Atsumu pulls back and moves to wedge a knee between Hinata’s legs. "Who?"

"Atsumu!" Hinata cries again, and _now_ he’s begging, a breath away from taking the punishment and reaching forwards to pull him closer.

Atsumu surges forwards and kisses him with fervor that can only say that he's gotten what he wanted, biting down and dragging out Hinata’s lip before kissing hot and wet against him. Their lips smack together and drag, Hinata’s swollen and chapped from being bitten through earlier ministrations, parting quick and easy and naturally for Atsumu. Hands card through his hair now, while two more slide up and down the sides of his bare thighs, raising the hairs on his legs and the back of his neck. His hands lay useless beside him, chest moving even more than his mouth against Atsumu’s. Hinata is pliant, is clay, lets himself be molded as Atsumu presses their tongues together and tugs on his hair hard enough that he _has_ to move.

"Who is kissin’ you?" he asks as their mouths break, every syllable spoken dragging their lips against one another.

"Atsumu," Hinata breathes, eyes fluttering shut.

Atsumu tugs at his hair. "Look at me, and only me," he growls, and Hinata complies, cracking open his eyes just enough to watch as Atsumu works his fingers out of Hinata’s hair and kisses a trail down his breast bone, thumbs rolling over each nipple and pulling another _hngh!_ from Hinata.

Atsumu bites away with small motions and blunt nails that leave Hinata on the edge of _enough_ and _not enough please dear gods._ He can’t move and is not in a position to ask what he wants, not when Atsumu has all the cards, save the joker. That card sits in the hands of the one behind him, the one that grows restless, who shifts enough for Hinata to feel the press of his dick behind him and warmth on his neck, hands tilting his head. Hinata faces Osamu, tries to keep his expression neutral even as Atsumu bites his chest again. His facade falters, but Osamu hardly minds, grinning a second before Hinata can moan and pressing a kiss to muffle the sound.

Atsumu pauses his ministrations and Hinata whines against Osamu’s tongue at the loss, but is soon distracted by teeth nibbling playfully on his bottom lip. Hinata keeps still despite the urge to writhe, to shudder, to rub together his legs and find friction. Atsumu’s grip on his waist is iron clad and sure to leave bruises beside the scars, so contrary to the feather light touches of— 

“‘Samu,” Atsumu growls. 

Osamu breaks from Hinata and raises a hand to his cheek, tilting Hinata’s head back while the other slips down his inner thigh. “Play nice,” he murmurs. Hinata shudders, eyes fluttering shut. Atsumu’s eyes narrow at his brother, who nuzzles his nose into Hinata’s neck. Hinata sighs, shifting again and ignoring Atsumu’s rule of moving unintentionally.

Atsumu pushes away Hinata’s pants and drags his teeth on the newly exposed skin, nails digging into Hinata’s hip bones as he freezes in place. He’s coaxed from rigidity by Osamu’s mouth, hot and wet on his neck, humming and sucking along his pulse tantalizingly slow. Meanwhile, Atsumu props up Hinata’s ankle onto his shoulder and kisses his knee, licking a stripe up towards Hinata’s inner thigh. He bites on the soft skin there, earning a yelp from Hinata that opens his eyes and fixes them on the blond between his legs.

“Say my name,” Atsumu commands, hands running over Hinata’s bare skin, his heel pressing into Atsumu’s shoulder. “And say nothing else. Won't you be a _good boy?”_

Hinata’s chest swells, nodding as best he can with Osamu leaving marks on his jaw. Atsumu moves his attention to where Hinata wants it most just as teeth graze his neck, Osamu’s hands tracing his collarbone. He’s soon distracted by hot breath against his aching dick, a half breathed _Atsumu_ leaving his mouth in repetition, goading him to move closer and closer. It only takes a single second to realize what Atsumu is about to do, why his face has grown so close to Hinata’s dick. Slowly, with the knowledge that he has no idea what to expect, Atsumu drags his tongue along the underside of Hinata’s cock before gripping the base with his hand. Hinata’s mouth falls open just watching, a high pitched noise falling from his lips as Atsumu sucks on the head. Osamu moves his hand higher, until his fingers are brushing Hinata’s swollen lips, spit slick as he drools in pleasure. As he parts them in another sigh, Osamu slips them in, feeling the texture of Hinata’s tongue and muffling his cries of Atsumu’s name.

Atsumu releases Hinata’s cock from his mouth. “Cheater,” he says, watching as Hinata’s leg shakes, as his eyes roll back. Osamu looks up from Hinata’s neck and bites the shell of his ear, shrugging. 

“You just won’t admit you enjoy the view,” he says, pressing his fingers further into Hinata’s mouth. Hinata parts his lips wider, drool dribbling onto the sheets as he squirms. The frustrated twitch in Atsumu’s brow goes unnoticed by him, eyes glazing over as he tries to focus. That task only becomes harder as Atsumu’s focus is drawn back to his dick. He takes a few inches into his mouth, swirling his tongue along the tip. Hinata gasps, and Osamu takes that chance to push his fingers in further, feeling along the back of his tongue. Atsumu’s name becomes lost in the moans, breathy and muffled by Osamu’s meddling. 

Never content with the status quo, even if that quo entails Hinata writhing, naked, with Osamu fingerfucking his mouth, Atsumu hollows out his cheeks and sucks on the tip of Hinata’s dick, beginning to jerk off the rest with sharp, quick motions. Hinata’s eyes shoot open, toes curling as his back arches off of Osamu’s chest, high pitched moans heard through his fingers. At that, Osamu smiles, kissing the side of his neck as he slips his fingers out, trailing the drool and saliva down Hinata’s chin. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs, spit slick fingers trailing over blooming hickies. Hinata’s breath hitches again, just from that, only to keen again as Atsumu twists his wrist and seemingly attempts to suck the very life out of him. Hinata’s stomach coils abruptly, the steady build of pleasure suddenly spiking as his breaths grow shorter and shorter. Osamu hums, pressing a hot kiss to his earlobe. “Good boy… you can do it...”

“Ah— Atsu— _please!”_ Hinata cries, unable to hold back as he looks down, and catches the sight of Atsumu looking up at him with mirth filled eyes, bobbing his head. “Please, Atsumu, please don’t stop, please, just let me— let me—”

Hinata’s words die off, head lulling back against Osamu’s shoulder as his eyes begin to roll. Atsumu works him with quick, practiced motions, sucking just enough to push Hinata over the edge. He stays there, swallowing around Hinata’s cock as he cums, Osamu there to hold him still as he shudders through it.

A slick _pop_ fills the room as Atsumu pulls off of Hinata, as lewd as the sight of him wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Hinata breathes with weighted exhales, body melting against Osamu’s chest and eyes fluttering shut. 

“‘Tsumu,” Osamu says, the low vibrations of his voice buzzing through Hinata. “Pass me the vial.”

Hinata’s eyes snap open, the moment of respite ended as Osamu turns him around in his lap. Hinata faces him, panting slightly as Osamu reaches out to take the vial from Atsumu behind him. Noticing the crease in his brow, Osamu presses a kiss to Hinata’s forehead. 

“Lie on me or ‘Tsumu while I get you ready,” he tells him, popping the cork from the bottle. Hinata nods, letting himself curl up against Osamu’s chest, arms slung over his shoulders. He can feel Atsumu’s chest press up against his back as Osamu squeezes his hip with one hand, the other reaching around to press now slick fingers against his hole. The lube is warm enough from his fingers, but Hinata still shivers at the first press inside of him. The heat radiating from Osamu’s neck is enough to keep him relaxed as he works in a second finger, pushing past the first ring of muscle until Hinata no longer tenses in discomfort. 

“Mmm, that’s it,” Osamu purrs, thrusting his fingers in deeper. Hinata's breath trembles against Osamu’s neck, a warm puff of air that mirrors the pleasure fizzling through him. Osamu fingers him slowly, massaging his walls and getting him used to the sensation more than anything, slowly bringing Hinata back to hardness. 

Behind Hinata, Atsumu grins, presses a kiss behind his ear. “Ain’t _you_ lucky?” he says between kisses, licking the sensitive patch of skin below Hinata’s ear. The hairs on the back of Hinata’s neck stand on end from the low murmur of his voice. He feels his dick twitch and ruts forwards against Osamu’s abdomen, rocking back down against his fingers. Osamu crooks them deep inside of him, and the resulting pleasure makes Hinata moan, high pitched and breathy. Atsumu bites the spot behind his ear and Hinata can only feel the pleasure amongst the pain, the steady build inside of him. 

Osamu’s free hand cups his ass, squeezing as a third finger joins the rest. It’s hard not to feel small as he’s pressed between the twins, each breath pushing him closer against their skin. Osamu squeezes a little harder, chucking softly when Hinata whimpers. “Ya like that, hm?”

Hinata whimpers again, hoping it serves as an answer. He can feel Atsumu sink his teeth into his shoulder, drawing out another cry, and _gods_ if Hinata could melt into the sheets, he would. Held too tight the squirm or jerk down onto Osamu’s hand, Hinata is left to shudder, body tensing and untensing around Osamu’s fingers. 

_“H-ah_ , please,” Hinata mumbles, the teasing brush of Osamu’s fingers not quite against his prostate no longer enough. 

“You gonna fuck him, ‘Samu?” Atsumu asks, voice low in Hinata’s ear. With a twist of his wrist, he shoves one of his fingers inside of Hinata, stretching him wider and pushing Osamu’s fingers deeper inside of him. “He’s _beggin’_ to be fucked.”

Hinata’s mouth falls open as Osamu drags his fingers out of him, pushing Atsumu’s hand away. He moves away to push his pants part way down his thighs, taking his underwear along with them. The sight of him slicking his cock with oil makes Hinata’s mouth water, and that alone leaves him uncomfortable with the extent of his own desire. But he _craves_ touch, so much so that when Osamu pulls him back into his lap, Hinata practically falls into his arms. Their lips meet in a slow, dirty kiss, Osamu’s tongue sliding into his mouth as his hands grip Hinata’s ass and spread his cheeks. With his moans muffled by Osamu’s mouth, Hinata grows louder, desperate. What little shame still lurks in his chest burns next to his overwhelming desire to be _taken._ It pushes him to whine, to keen, to claw Osamu’s ruffled shirt in an attempt to bring himself closer. Osamu leans forwards, sliding his cock between Hinata’s cheeks. The motion pushes Hinata’s dick against Osamu’s lower abdomen, but even that sweet moment of friction isn’t enough. 

Before Hinata can think to beg, Osamu’s hands move to grip his hips, hoisting him up to hover inches above his dick. Hinata’s stomach drops, the dizzying rush to his head half from the sudden movement, and half from having his power stripped away. Panting from the kiss, Hinata looks down, watching Osamu sink him down on top of his cock, inch by torturous inch. His sculpted forearms flex, muscles shifting under his warm skin and Hinata cannot look away. The grip on his hips is nothing next to the sensation of his dick pushing further and further into him, the angle different enough that when he bottoms out, Hinata can’t help but shudder. He reaches forwards to sling his arms around Osamu’s neck, shoulders trembling as his body clenches down onto Osamu’s dick on his own accord. The intensity of it all weighs on his shoulders, furthered still by the darkness in Osamu’s watchful eyes.

“Relax,” Osamu murmurs, rolling his hips up against Hinata’s, pulling a gasp from deep inside his chest. “There we go…” 

Osamu pulls Hinata upwards again, shoving him back down at the same time as his hips snap upwards. Hinata bounces down on his cock, mouth falling open with the sudden force. It’s rougher than Osamu tends to be, the kind of hard, gut wrenching fucking that Atsumu tends to prefer. But every drop brings Hinata’s ass flush with Osamu’s hips, and he feels full in a way that makes up for the lack of caution, the careful embrace. He has no leverage to push down, manhandled completely as Osamu continues to bounce him on his dick. Hinata finds himself thanking the gods for Osamu’s incredible strength, gifted to him for this sole purpose. Each thrust comes with the full force of it, Osamu rocking into Hinata and stretching him further around his cock.

Hinata’s dick slaps against his stomach with each bounce, head lulling back. He can hardly hold himself up, can hardly think with Osamu so deep inside of him. It aches in a way that makes Hinata’s hair stand on end, makes him gasp for air. He rests his forehead against Osamu’s cheek, broken noises falling from his mouth.

“Look at’cha,” Osamu whispers, voice rough as his hips snap up into Hinata. “Sittin’ nice ‘nd pretty on my cock.”

Hinata whimpers, gripping Osamu tighter. A second set of hands smooth over his shoulders as Atsumu snickers in his ear. “Gonna let him do all the work, huh? You greedy slut.”

Atsumu’s nails scrape down his back, the sting almost as sharp as the bite. His teeth sink into Hinata’s nape, only pulling back when Osamu lifts Hinata back up again. Every point of contact is oil on a burning fire, Hinata’s skin alight with every touch. Osamu’s grip tightens as he shoves him down with more force than before, the resounding _smack_ of his hips against Hinata’s ass sharp against Hinata’s ear. The air is filled with their heavy breaths and his broken moans, punctuated by the slick sound of skin hitting skin, undercut by the rumbling behind him. Atsumu’s arms wrap around Hinata’s chest to pinch his nipples, and Hinata’s breath catches in his throat. His nails are blunt, rough against tender skin already swollen from abuse. Still, every brush leaves Hinata keening, falling limp against Osamu’s chest. 

“That’s it, baby,” Osamu murmurs, pressing a sloppy kiss to Hinata’s jaw. His dick brushes against Hinata’s prostate again, each roll of his hips pressing closer and closer. Osamu lifts him back up, slamming back down before Hinata can whine at the emptiness. 

“Ah-! O- _Osamu!”_ Hinata cries. His hands fist the fabric of Osamu’s shirt, twisting it between his fingers as his back arcs. 

Atsumu smooths a hand down his stomach, nibbling on the shell of Hinata’s ear. “Ya like bein’ stuffed full’a cock, hm?” he says, hot breath fanning out against Hinata’s ear. 

“Sure he does,” Osamu says, pressing another kiss to Hinata’s jaw. “Takin’ me in so good, Shouyou.”

Hinata screws his eyes shut. The overwhelming sensations push him too close to the brink, and with Atsumu’s hand travelling lower and lower, he can’t be sure he can last. He opens his mouth to say as much, but all that comes out is a gasp as Atsumu wraps his hand around Hinata’s cock.

“Mmm, bet’cha thinkin’ ‘bout cummin’, huh?” Atsumu says, letting Hinata fuck into his fist as Osamu thrusts up into him. “You think you deserve it? Hm?”

“Please,” Hinata gasps, shaking as Osamu pulls him back down again. Atsumu twists his wrist, moving his hand in tandem with each thrust. “P-please!”

“I dunno,” Atsumu drawls. “‘Samu, whatcha think?”

Osamu rolls his hips up into Hinata, cock pushing deeper inside him. “I think he’s been good,” he whispers, voice growing hoarse as his thrusts grow quicker. Hinata’s thighs tremble as he squeezes around him, a whine escaping his throat from the praise. _“Fuck,_ that’s it, good boy, just like that.”

Hinata shudders, the tension in his gut spreading out towards his toes. All it takes is a twist of Atsumu’s wrist for him to fall apart, cum shooting up to splatter against his stomach. It rips through him, burning all the way to the tips of his fingers. Osamu leans forwards, gaining the leverage needed to pound into him, thrusts shallow and stuttering as he reaches his own climax and finishes deep inside him. Hinata continues to shudder, held tight in Osamu’s arms. All the while, Atsumu slips his hand out from between them, wiping the mess onto the sheets.

Hinata’s eyes are still closed when Osamu pulls out slow and steady, kissing Hinata’s cheek as he does. His chest flutters despite the ache. He finds himself enveloped in a second pair of arms, pulled back from Osamu’s lap, jostled out of his haze. Hinata opens his eyes just as Atsumu manhandles him to face him. He’s greeted with a lopsided grin, Atsumu’s eyes dark, pupils blown wide as he stares down at him. A yelp slips past his lips at the sudden movement, any further protests swallowed by Atsumu’s mouth. He surges forwards with the kiss, tongue prying open Hinata’s slack lips, both hands coming to cup Hinata’s jaw. The kiss is hot and messy, with spit slicking their lips as Atsumu drags his tongue across Hinata’s teeth. It’s only then, as he struggles not to tremble, that Hinata realizes Atsumu is far from done with him.

One hand tangles into Hinata’s hair, wrenching his head back and forcefully breaking the kiss. Without letting him catch his breath, Atsumu shoves Hinata’s head down, until his nose is pressed flush with the undone buttons of his trousers. Hinata looks up at Atsumu through a thin veil of lashes, held in place as Atsumu’s free hand reaches into his underwear to pull out his dick. The tip smacks Hinata in the nose— out of instinct, Hinata flinches away, only to be pushed back against it. 

“Time to return the favour,” he says with a grin, the shadows stark against his jaw as he looks down at Hinata, hunger rampant in his gaze.

Hinata feels Atsumu’s dick throb against his cheek as he tries to process Atsumu’s request. “I don’t— I’ve never—” he stammers, lips brushing against the velvety skin of his shaft as Atsumu angles his head closer. 

“Scared?” Atsumu taunts. “Wrap those pretty fuckin’ lips around my cock and _suck.”_

Hinata’s mouth falls open in a moment, breath shaking as he looks down at Atsumu’s cock before him. He’s _big—_ Hinata still feels ready to burst when he’s fucked, and isn’t sure how he can fit half of him in his mouth, let alone the whole thing. Still, Atsumu pushes him closer, and Hinata has no choice but to open wider, sealing his lips around the tip of Atsumu’s cock. 

The taste isn’t horrible, and isn’t nearly as potent as when Atsumu made him eat his own mess. Tentatively, not put off by the taste, Hinata prods at the tip with his tongue, swirling it around the tip. Atsumu pushes him down further, forcing Hinata to take another inch into his mouth as a ragged groan falls from above.

“Suck,” he commands, and Hinata complies, weakly at first, then with more and more force in an attempt to gain praise. He can’t fail, can’t mess up, is aware of how weak his muscles are and how strong the hold in his hair is. He hollows his cheeks and watches Atsumu’s chest rise and fall, unsteady as Hinata works. He lifts Hinata up by the hair, pushing him back down to much the same depth as before. The message is clear— Hinata shifts enough weight onto one elbow to begin moving his head, no longer held down in a vice grip by the hair. Each bob has Atsumu’s length rubbing against his tongue, spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth to leak down towards the base. Atsumu jerks the lower half of his dick off himself, content to let Hinata struggle to fit the first half in his mouth completely. 

The brush of a hand on the small of Hinata’s back startles him, enough that a small hum vibrates through Atsumu’s cock. He’s quickly pushed lower, leading Hinata to gag as Atsumu’s dick slips further into his mouth and towards his throat. Osamu continues to rub Hinata’s back, the gentle touch nothing like Atsumu’s hold. Eventually, Atsumu gives up on waiting for Hinata to figure it out, thrusting up into his mouth as Hinata struggles to keep up. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and Hinata can’t help but feel humiliated— he hardly has half of Atsumu’s cock in his mouth, and yet he’s already crying.

“Fuck,” Atsumu curses, forcing Hinata’s head up and down as the hand wrapped around his lower shaft works faster and faster. Suddenly, he pulls Hinata back completely, stroking his entire dick once, twice before a spurt of cum splatters against Hinata’s lips. Hinata manages to close his eyes as Atsumu finishes on his face, cum shot across his cheek, his nose, making a mess of his mouth. When he finally lets go, it's all Hinata can do not to slump down and press his face into the fabric of Atsumu’s trousers. He rolls onto his back instead, gasping for air and coughing as his eyes struggle to focus on the canopy above him.

As Atsumu falls back against the pillows, Osamu leans over Hinata, eyes still lidded, but lacking their earlier hunger. Now, what remains is something like contentment, like _you did your part,_ what Hinata hopes may be pride to soothe his aching chest. 

“What a picture you make,” Osamu mumbles, and Hinata is flushing before he even cups his cum splattered cheek. “My beautiful, good boy.”

And Hinata’s eyes fall closed without a thought, and Osamu leans down to kiss him, and no part of Hinata worries about the taste of Atsumu’s cum or the wetness around his eyes. Because Osamu kisses away the fears, lips soft and hands warm, so much so that safety seems to pour out from his very touch. Hinata melts, and lets himself be held, waiting for the moment this moment ends. He knows it won’t, knows it’ll only fade as he’s lifted from the bed and into the baths to be cleaned. But for now, he lets time blur, lets now become then, and settles for the slide of Osamu’s tongue against his own, lazy and unhurried, the ache at both ends a reminder that he’ll never be without a pair of shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed this chapter! this is the first scene we actually wrote for this au, back when kj never wrote smut. i know its a bit shorter than usual, but its just smut this chapt. next chapter is gonna be a doozy! also: **stop leaving comments asking us to update. updates will come as they come.** refer to the note below if you're curious on progress/updates.
> 
> \- mooks


	4. consume

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut tags for this chapt: blow jobs, training, face fucking, light gagging, spit roasting
> 
> hey guys this is technically a day early but i honest to god cant help myself im just so excited to see everyones reactions to this chapt. also i wanna give a HUGEEEEEEE shoutout to nyana for [THIS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING FANART!!](https://twitter.com/nyanayuki/status/1273656555129524225?s=20) i literally cant stop staring at it i love it so very very much!!!  
> but without further ado: i hope you enjoy the chapter!  
> \- mooks
> 
> —
> 
> HUGE THANK YOU TO NYANA FOR HER ART!!!! this chapter has perhaps my FAVOURITE smut scene so far. i hope you guys enjoy it!!!  
> \- kj

On the days where the twins spend hours upon hours meeting dignitaries in the royal throne room, Hinata sits in the parlor of the princes’ chambers and watches the windows. The garden below, with its marble fountains and stone pathways, stands proudly among lush ferns and heavy greenery. The rainy season will start soon, leaving the air heavy with the weight of water to come. Not used to the humid heat, Hinata takes to cooling himself with an ornate folding fan, given to him by Osamu when he noticed the sheen of sweat on Hinata’s brow. The pattern painted onto each of its fold is subtle, silver against white that shimmers with every wave. Hinata studies it, in a vain hope that it’ll keep the thoughts crawling up his neck at bay.

In these hours, where Hinata feels small in a large room filled with beauty, Hinata contemplates his loneliness. The twins cannot be with him every hour of the day. Hinata knows this, has been told this and yet, he longs for the _click_ of the lock being undone, to wake up with a hand on the back of his neck, to hear the low rumble of a laugh behind him. Whatever terror lurking in the dark and quiet that gets chased off just by their presence returns the moment they leave if only to rest on the back of his neck, reminding him of how his life is tethered to a single anchor— the princes. 

Hinata lets his fingers ghost along the window panes, tracing the shape of the flowering shrubbery below. He wonders, in that moment, how permanent a fixture he is in the world built around him. The flowers in the garden bloom and wilt in a predetermined succession, surrounded by marble statues that will outlive them all. Is he like the marble, afixed here forevermore? Or is he a flower in peak bloom, waiting for the day he’s cast aside when his petals fall?

“Shouyou?” 

Hinata looks up, turning his head to see Osamu standing beside him. Shame wells up in his chest at the realization that, had he just turned away, he would’ve noticed him. He looks up at Osamu’s unreadable eyes and drowns in their depths.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” Hinata stammers, collapsing the fan and holding it tight to his chest. 

Osamu sits down on the chaise lounge next to him, reaching out to cup his cheek. His hands are warm, yet the metal of the gold jewelry that brushes Hinata’s skin is cold, creating a dichotomy of sensation that is almost as dizzying as the way Osamu studies him. The kiss that follows is gentle, a mere brush of lips that leaves Hinata to melt further into Osamu until all of the tension leaves him. The fan slips from his fingers and lands on his lap, his now free hand resting on Osamu’s chest. Osamu pulls back just as Hinata begins to lean on him, still holding Hinata’s head in his hand, and swipes his thumb across his cheek.

“It’s alright,” he tells him. “You seem off. What’s wrong?”

Hinata hesitates, eyes drifting from Osamu’s piercing gaze. The worry from before returns, twisting his stomach into uncertainty. Osamu doesn’t let him pull away, turning his cheek back towards him with a firm grip. “Shouyou,” he says, lulling Hinata’s name with a slow and steady drawl. “I wanna know what you’re thinkin’. Why don'tcha tell me?”

There’s no disobeying Osamu. Still, Hinata’s bottom lip trembles, all of his anxieties buzzing at the surface. Osamu waits with the patience of the saint he isn’t, petting Hinata’s cheek as the words begin to spill out. 

“I don’t ever wanna be alone again,” Hinata whispers.

“And what makes you think you will be?” Osamu responds, voice calm and even. _“I_ certainly ain’t gonna be givin’ you up, not when you’re such a treasure.”

“You— you won’t?” Hinata stammers. 

Osamu lips curl into a smile. “Course I won’t.”

Hinata lets out a small sigh. His next question sits uncomfortably in his chest, even as Osamu begins to comb his fingers through Hinata’s hair. “What… what about Atsumu?”

Osamu’s smile turns into a smirk, his eyes narrowing as he mulls over his words. “Hmm… I think ‘Tsumu just wants you to prove yourself,” he says, curling a strand of Hinata's hair around his finger. “After all, you got so much to learn.”

Osamu slides a hand up Hinata’s thigh, and Hinata’s breath catches in his throat. There’s a heaviness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, a gleam of hunger that Hinata feels snaking around his limbs. “You already follow commands so well, but some things you just need to _know._ When to stay quiet, when to speak up, to push back, to be _coy._ ‘Tsumu’s bein’ _awfully_ merciful, lettin’ you mess up to figure out what he likes. Even if that means seein’ you in tears.”

A sharp inhale rattles Hinata’s chest. “Um— I— I—” he stutters, body responding to Osamu’s teasing touches on its own. 

“You've come so far already. You were just a blushin’ virgin when we took you in, so it’s alright for you to be unskilled,” Osamu continues, leaning forwards as his hand inches higher up Hinata’s thigh. “And you take cock like you were born for it, but…” Osamu pauses, bringing his thumb to swipe across Hinata’s bottom lip. “‘Tsumu says you needa learn how to use your mouth properly.”

Hinata remembers the weight of Atsumu’s cock on his tongue, the fullness in his throat. Unconsciously, his lips part, tongue darting out to wet them as he remembers how it felt to clumsily choke around him. Osamu’s smirk grows as Hinata’s tongue graces his thumb, a low hum sounding from his chest. 

“Lucky for us that you’re a fast learner,” Osamu says. “‘Nd lucky for you that I’m a good teacher.”

“You’ll teach me?” Hinata echoes, eyes wide, words slurred as Osamu presses his thumb into Hinata’s mouth. 

“Mm, if you're that eager, we’ll start now,” he says, stroking Hinata’s lip. He slowly pulls his hand away from Hinata’s mouth, wiping the spit on his pants. Hinata waits on edge for his next command, watching as Osamu plucks one of the decorative pillows from the lounge chair and sets it on the floor in front of him. He leans back, tapping the pillow with one foot. “C’mere, sit.”

Slowly, Hinata makes his way to the floor, settling at Osamu’s feet, knees cushioned by the pillow below him. He looks up at Osamu, anticipation thrumming with every beat of his heart. Watching Osamu smile down at him soothes the worst of his nerves, despite the way his half lidded eyes seem to devour him. 

“Is this good?” Hinata asks, folding his hands in his lap. 

Osamu hums, spreading his legs wider. “You’ll need to come closer than that, baby.”

The hair on the back of Hinata’s neck raises at the low purr of Osamu’s voice. He inches forwards, kneeling so that his nose stops a few inches short of Osamu’s clothed crotch. With a gentle hand, Osamu combs his fingers through Hinata’s hair, working his fingertips against Hinata’s scalp to relieve some of the tension. Hinata lets his eyes fall shut, taking in the brief calm before the sound of rustling clothes draws them back open. Osamu drapes his cape to the side, reaching around his middle to untie the sash cinching his airy blouse to his waist. Once undone, it’s easy to untuck the blouse from his trousers and unfasten the buttons holding them together. Osamu doesn’t look away from Hinata as he reaches into his underwear and pulls out his dick, half hard in his hand. Hinata crosses his eyes slightly to focus on it, intimidated not only by Osamu’s size but his expectations. 

“What do I do?” Hinata asks, watching as Osamu lazily strokes himself in time with the hand petting Hinata’s hair. 

Osamu removes his hand, planting it on the lounge beside him. “Start with your hands. There’s no rush.”

Hinata nods— this much he’s used to. He wraps his hand around Osamu’s dick and moves his fist with relative ease, firm but slow to work it to full hardness. Osamu tilts his head up to look at him with a gentle tug of his hair. His face is as impassive as ever, with only the barest hint of a smile gracing his lips. There’s no guessing if what he’s doing is enough— either Osamu lets him know, or leaves him hanging on by a thread.

“Good,” Osamu tells him, relieving Hinata of his worry. “Now give it a kiss and keep going.”

Hinata’s eyes dart back down to Osamu’s cock. Still holding him midway down the shaft, Hinata brings himself closer, until he can smell the subtle musk that clings to Osamu’s skin. Glancing back up to meet Osamu’s eyes, Hinata puckers his lips and presses a soft kiss to the tip, pulling back after only a moment. He’s greeted with laughter, not mocking, but fond, and Osamu’s pupils growing degrees wider.

“Oh, Shouyou, I know you can kiss better than that,” he says, a teasing lilt in his tone. It mirrors Atsumu’s so closely that Hinata involuntarily shudders, caught off guard by how similar the brothers truly are.

Mouth watering, Hinata brings his lips back to Osamu’s cockhead, this time, parting them. When he kisses his dick again, he doesn’t pull away, moving his lips in slow, feather light motions. The taste of him grows stronger the longer Hinata spends working his lips against him, mouthing at the base before moving his kisses back up to the tip. Hinata starts stroking him again, unsure what else to do, glancing up at Osamu for further instruction.

Osamu, perhaps noticing the uncertainty in Hinata’s eyes, pets Hinata’s hair in assurance. “Use your tongue now. You can suck, too.”

Hinata finds himself nodding, the tip of Osamu’s dick still between his lips. Cheeks flushing, he presses his tongue against it as he sucks as best he can, earning him a crack in Osamu’s facade. He stops as the grip in his hair grows tighter, Osamu releasing a sharp puff of air that only sounds half like a laugh.

“Easy there. Watch the teeth,” he tells him, releasing his hair. 

Hinata shrinks back into himself, ears burning as his stomach twists. Determined not to mess up a second time, he gingerly takes Osamu’s cockhead back into his mouth, letting it rest on the flat of his tongue rather than the tips of his teeth. This time, he runs his tongue along the underside as he sucks, movements still slow as he gauges every tiny shift in Osamu’s expression— the clench of his hand against the cushions, the ever changing pace of his breathing. Hinata relishes in every small indication that he’s making Osamu feel good, spurring on his ever wavering confidence in his abilities. 

“That’s better,” Osamu breathes out, eyes closing for a moment as Hinata flicks his tongue against his tip. “I knew you’d get it.”

Hinata swells at the affirmation, and opens his mouth a little wider, taking another inch of Osamu’s cock into his mouth. It’s harder to reach the tip with his tongue, so he settles for running it along the underside instead. 

“I’m gonna guide your head, alright? Once you get the hang of it, you can move on your own,” Osamu murmurs, threading his fingers through Hinata’s hair. The grip far from hurts, a welcome presence that Hinata relaxes into even as his head is guided back and forth. At first, Osamu simply works Hinata’s head up and down, pulling back so that the tip of his cock lies on his tongue only to push back down to where he was before. Hinata gets used to the sensation of his cock sliding past his lips, the feeling of heat radiating from Osamu in his mouth, the faint throb on his tongue. As Hinata grows more and more comfortable with the movement, he returns to his earlier tasks, jerking the rest of Osamu’s cock and sucking as his dick slides in and out. Above him, Osamu groans, eyes falling shut for a moment as he breathes in.

Hinata doesn’t notice that Osamu has started to push him deeper onto his dick at first. It’s only when Hinata is forced to open his mouth wider that he realizes just how much of Osamu’s cock is pushed into his mouth— not yet half, but a few more inches than when he took control. Breathing heavily through his nose, Hinata moves his hand closer to the base. Even at his roughest, Atsumu only ever made him take half his cock into his mouth, nowhere near the whole thing. Hinata knows why— both the twins are large enough that he’s sure neither expects him to take them all at once in one go. And yet, Hinata wants _more,_ loathes the thought of disappointment in the twin’s eyes. So when Osamu pushes him down and down and down, Hinata wrinkles his nose and lets his eyes water as his cock reaches the back of his mouth. Osamu eases him back to the tip, giving Hinata a moment to steady himself before sinking him back down, inch by inch by inch without stopping. Hinata gets just past where he stopped before his stomach lurches. The surge of panic that rushes through him only makes it worse— he goes to suck in a breath through a mouth stuffed with cock and sputters jerking back at the same time that Osamu pulls him off. 

“Easy there,” Osamu coos, reaching down to wipe the spit from Hinata’s swollen lips. “That’s a good boy. You don’t have to push yourself tonight. We’ll work on that later.”

Hinata nods slowly, eyes falling shut as Osamu continues to stroke his face in a brief moment of respite. “Later,” he mumbles, repeating Osamu’s words like the promise they are. His rest ends when Osamu tilts his face back up with two fingers on his chin. Hinata opens his eyes just in time to watch Osamu take his cock into his own hand and guide it back to Hinata’s half parted lips. More than simply willing, Hinata _wants_ so desperately to follow Osamu’s lead, to hold his praises, to be worthy of a place at his side. Hinata opens his mouth wider and takes Osamu’s dick in, working back up to the pace Osamu had set. His jaw begins to ache, but not enough to stop. The rush of blood in his ears drowns out the rest of his worries, until all that’s left is what’s here between them. 

“Gods, Shouyou, just like that,” Osamu groans, and Hinata whimpers around his cock in response. The hand in his hair tightens, pushing Hinata down a fraction. Hinata catches himself before he chokes, working his tongue in an effort to pull the heavy breaths from Osamu once more. His voice alone, the rumbling tenor that fills the humid air between them, makes Hinata all the more aware of his own arousal. He hasn’t been touched since they began, and Osamu’s praise has the power to make his dick twitch all on its own. He wouldn’t dare touch himself— not without Osamu’s permission, not when his head is cradled so firmly in his hand— but the need to seek his own relief makes sitting still even harder.

Hinata locks eyes with Osamu as he hollows out his cheeks, hoping from the bottom of his heart that he can see the need in his eyes. Something about the sight of Osamu, cheeks ruddied, eyes half lidded, lip caught between his teeth, amounts to an image of clarity. Hinata is worthy of this, of being here, of drawing out those noises from Osamu’s tongue. He bobs his head again and tries to focus himself enough to stroke the rest of Osamu’s cock in time with his mouth. 

“Mmm, I’m close,” Osamu warns, voice strained and body tense. “Why don’t you be a _good boy_ and try swallowing for me?”

Hinata nods, though the intent is likely lost as he continues working Osamu’s cock in and out of his mouth. He can tell that Osamu is about to cum a half second before he does— the hand in his hair twists near painfully in a way that leaves Hinata more than alerted. Cum hits Hinata’s tongue soon after, bitter, but far from the worst thing he’s tasted. It fills his mouth fast enough that, though he does his best to swallow mouthful after mouthful, he ends up pulling off and spitting the last of it onto himself. Hinata inhales sharply once his mouth is free, filling his lungs with air. He’s still panting when Osamu cups his cheek, opening his mouth back up.

“Go on, clean up what you missed,” he tells him, voice a little ragged, a little hoarse. Despite having his cock in his mouth mere seconds earlier, Hinata feels himself blush all the way to his ears as he scoops up the splatters of cum with his fingers and brings them to his tongue. Osamu hums as the mess is cleaned, still stroking his cheek. “Good, Shouyou. You did so well. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you agree?”

Hinata can only whimper. “Please,” he murmurs, shifting uncomfortably. His dick is hard, tenting the thin fabric of his pants. Osamu reaches down, taking a moment to tuck himself back into his underwear before pulling Hinata up from the ground and onto his lap. He doesn’t shy away from kissing him, despite the taste of cum that no doubt clings to Hinata’s lips, instead wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him in closer. Hinata ruts shamelessly on his thigh as their tongues meet, the kiss messy and hot and driven mostly by Hinata’s unbearable desire. Osamu, now sated, takes his time slipping his hand under Hinata’s waistband, letting Hinata grind against his palm for a moment. 

_Reward,_ Hinata thinks, lips near numb as Osamu kisses him. His hand wraps around his cock, building up to a pace that is quick, that is firm, that is everything Hinata needs right now. He arcs away from the kiss, hips jerking into Osamu’s hand. He won’t last long, not like this. Osamu doesn't expect him to, and lets him mouth wordlessly in the air, kissing his jawline and humming as broken moans fall from Hinata’s lips between his pants. 

“Osa- _ah_ -mu,” Hinata gasps, fisting his blouse as he climbs closer and closer.

“I gotcha, I gotcha,” Osamu tells him between kisses. “C’mon, Shouyou, cum for me.”

Hinata cums with his face buried into Osamu’s shoulder, wrapped up in his arms. His clothes are soiled and his jaw is sore, but the feeling that follows the afterglow is nothing but content. Osamu slips his hand from Hinata’s pants and wipes it on them, just enough to clean away the mess. With a soft chuckle, Osamu presses a kiss to the top of Hinata’s head, exhaling into his hair. 

“There we go,” he sighs, wrapping his arm around Hinata’s waist. “Our lil’ secret, okay?”

Hinata lifts his head from Osamu’s chest. The smile on Osamu’s lips warms him despite the darkness in his eyes, drawing him in closer until he’s lost in it. “Okay,” he says, voice no louder than a whisper, only audible between them both. Cradled in Osamu’s arms, gone is any trace of the doubt from before. All that’s left is a beating heart to remind him that he’s alive, and the weight of a body against his own to remind him he’s wanted.

—

The affairs of the kingdom keep both princes away for most of the following days. For all of their indulgence in luxury, both twins work hard. Hinata watches them from the corner of his eye as he sits on the bed, discussing diplomacy and sovereign conflicts from the comfort of their respective vanities. Atsumu often lingers in the mornings, laying in Hinata’s company, reading over documents and letters before leaving him until much later in the day. Hinata expects Osamu to do much the same, and is confused when he leaves much earlier than his brother, vanishing outside of the chambers that have become Hinata’s home. He soon learns of Osamu’s plan— a carefully placed hour, where he returns before his brother, for them and them alone. 

It always starts the same way. A hand on the nape of the neck, lips on his jaw, and the low murmur of Osamu’s voice as it hums in his ear. By the third day, Hinata knows when to expect the _click_ of the double doors being unlocked, and waits patiently kneeling at the foot of their bed. He can’t help the excitement that flutters from within when Osamu pets his head and sits above him. They talk, if only for a few minutes, Hinata’s head leaning against Osamu’s thigh. It’s never about much— idle chatter that soothes Hinata’s anxieties until all that remains is desire. Some days, Osamu waits for him to say it, to admit that he’s thought about Osamu’s cock in his mouth all day. Other times, he coaxes Hinata’s mouth open with one thumb, and doesn’t wait for him to say how long he’s been hard. 

Hinata gets used to giving head the more he does it. Osamu lets him explore, lets him taste, only guides him when his dick starts to twitch with impatience. Still, he never lets his face show it. Even as he groans as Hinata flicks his tongue over the slit of Osamu’s cock, he waits until Hinata pulls back to instruct him on what to do next. It’s when Osamu’s hand snakes into his hair that Hinata knows his time for experimentation is over. All he can do is follow Osamu’s lead, taking more and more of his length. Osamu tests his gag reflex, but never pushes it. He gets off fine with Hinata jerking off the rest of him, cums hot down his throat without choking him, and cleans the mess that’s spilled out from his lips. 

Hinata loves being nestled between Osamu’s legs with his hand cradling the back of his head, so much that his own dick grows hard from just having Osamu in his mouth. Osamu always makes sure he gets his reward in the form of quick, skilled handjobs and messy kisses. With both twins occupied with their royal duties more than usual, those touches are all Hinata has— Atsumu doesn’t even have the time to bother getting Hinata off in return. Ten days pass, and Hinata loathes to admit that he misses, _craves_ the twins inside of him. The lack of now familiar intimacy leaves him on edge, a hair's breadth from begging to be held down and fucked within an inch of his life. 

He doesn’t. Instead, Osamu wakes him from a mid afternoon nap with a kiss to his cheek, and pulls him from rest with all of the ease of a snake charmer coaxing a serpent from a basket. 

“Y-you’re back early,” Hinata breathes, voice short. The hair on the back of his neck rises as Osamu nibbles on his skin, exhaling heavily against his neck.

“Left ‘Tsumu to deal with the rest of the day’s work. Preparing a ball is exhausting. But in a week’s time, it’ll be over with,” Osamu replies. His hand slides down Hinata’s stomach, resting over the hem of Hinata’s chiffon skirt. “Happy to see me?”

A shudder runs down Hinata’s spine. “Always.”

“Good boy.” Osamu’s voice is dark with intent, his fingernails sharp as they scrape down Hinata’s hips. “You’ve been so good lately, haven’t you? Proving you can make your mouth useful for me, hm? That you aren’t as helpless as ‘Tsumu likes to think.” 

Hinata squirms under his touch. “I— I wanna be useful…”

“You are, my sweet Shouyou… much more than ‘Tsumu thinks,” Osamu purrs. His forefinger and thumb hook around Hinata’s chin, tilting it up to look him in the eye. “That’s why you’re gonna take my whole cock today.”

Hinata's eyes widen, mouth watering as he frantically ruts against Osamu's thigh. “Osamu,” he whines. “Please, _please,_ I want it in—”

Chuckling, Osamu presses his thumb against Hinata’s lips. “Thought you weren’t helpless, huh? You’ve done so good this far… now prove that you can take it.”

He pushes his thumb past Hinata’s lips, pressing it down against the flat of Hinata’s tongue. Hinata sucks without thinking, still holding Osamu’s gaze with pleading eyes. The thumb slips further into his mouth, down to the knuckle, as Osamu smiles, enjoying the way Hinata shivers when he presses down on the back of his tongue. _Good,_ Hinata thinks. _Not helpless, good._ He stops rutting long enough for his limbs to shake, long enough that Osamu hums in acceptance and slips his thumb out of Hinata's mouth with a _pop._

“Are you ready to be a good boy for me, Shouyou?” he asks, head tilted with a cocksure smile.

The answer falls from Hinata’s mouth without thinking. “Yes,” he says, as if there were any other answer to give.

“Then get on your knees. You know where you belong.”

Osamu leans back, giving Hinata the space needed to crawl off of the bed and between Osamu’s legs. The hand in his hair is a welcome source of comfort for his shaking hands as he undoes the buttons fastening Osamu’s trousers closed. Hinata finds his dick half hard already, stiffening under his fingers as he pulls it from the confinement of his underwear and onto the flat of his tongue. He thumbs the underside of the head and flicks his tongue over the slit. The low hum of approval from Osamu as he sucks on the tip travels straight down to the pit of his navel. Hesitation fades in favour of something primal, a deep set desire to please. With one hand wrapped around the base of Osamu’s cock, Hinata closes his eyes and lowers his head, taking Osamu’s length further into his mouth.

Osamu winds his fingers into Hinata’s hair. “You look perfect like this,” he says, twining the strands between his fingers. “With your pretty little mouth wrapped ‘round my cock.”

The praise washes over Hinata, pulling a whine from him that’s muffled by Osamu’s dick. Osamu doesn’t give him the luxury of finding a rhythm. Instead, he guides Hinata’s head to take his cock deeper, gripping Hinata’s hair as he guides him. Hinata moves with him, not fighting the pace Osamu sets. He hollows his cheeks as Osamu’s dick slides along his tongue, still jerking him off with short, firm strokes. Osamu pushes him lower with each bob of his head, closer to Hinata’s fist and further than Hinata’s taken him before. It doesn’t hurt, but the uncomfortable squeeze at the back of his throat refuses to subside in a reminder of what’s to come. 

Osamu pulls Hinata back so that the tip rests on his tongue, hand combing through the hair at the base of his neck. Hinata can feel Osamu’s pulse against his lips, dick throbbing as Hinata suckles the head. Despite the anxiety twisting in his gut, he wants it to be good, wants Osamu to tell him _he’s_ good. Whether out of desperation or an absent mind, he begins to stroke Osamu faster, his own saliva slick on Osamu’s cock. Osamu inhales sharply, hand twisting in Hinata’s hair.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he says, free hand grabbing Hinata’s wrist. His voice is strained, but his grip is strong, pulling Hinata’s hand off of his dick. “You want it _so bad,_ don'tcha?”

Hinata moves to pull off Osamu’s dick and reply, only to be held in place with a muffled _mrph._ He relaxes his jaw at the last second so that Osamu’s dick can slide into his mouth with little resistance. Breathing heavily through his nose, Hinata locks eyes with Osamu, wordlessly pleading for some semblance of mercy. Osamu lips quirk into a half smile, the only thing soft about him. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs once Hinata sinks halfway down his cock. He can take this much without gagging, comfortable running his tongue along the underside and inhaling the musky scent. It’s when Osamu begins to push his head lower that Hinata’s eyes begin to water. He doesn’t gag, not yet, and Osamu is slow enough that his throat can stretch to accommodate each inch as it presses further. His cock is thick too, not just long but girthy enough that Hinata’s jaw aches from the weight of it. Hinata reaches forwards, grasping at Osamu’s thighs in a futile attempt to anchor himself to _something._ He starts to gag, and Osamu stops, holding him there and waiting wordlessly for Hinata to control himself. When Hinata’s breathing finally evens out, Osamu pushes him further, until the tip of his cock touches the back of Hinata’s throat.

Hinata leans forwards the rest of the way, letting his nose press flush against the dark curls at the base of Osamu’s dick. Above him, Osamu groans, heady and rough, hand gripping Hinata’s hair hard enough to hurt.

“You did it, Shouyou,” Osamu tells him, pushing his bangs away from his face. “That’s a good boy.”

Hinata shudders at the praise, throat contracting as he swallows around Osamu. Osamu’s face slackens, mouth falling open at the same time that his eyes close shut. Hinata struggles to remember a time where he could see Osamu’s face so clearly in pleasure: the furrow in his brow, the way his thighs tense on either side of his head, the weight of each exhale as it passes through his lips. Hinata shifts as much as Osamu’s grip will allow it, looking up to take in the sight he’s been blessed with and the pleasure he’s caused. It's worth the sting, worth the tears watering his eyes, worth every ounce of humiliation he’s had to suffer just to get here. No longer helpless, Hinata swallows again, forcing himself not to choke when Osamu pushes his head back down to the base. 

_“Fuck,”_ Osamu curses, opening his eyes to look down at Hinata. “What I wouldn’t give to ruin you properly.”

Hinata moans, half gagging as he tries to breathe in through his mouth in the process. Osamu has the mercy to pull his head back a few inches while he gathers himself, but as soon as he stops sputtering, Osamu pushes him back. It’s slow going at first. Hinata hardly pulls back before sinking back down to the base, but it’s enough for Osamu’s head to press between the pliant walls of Hinata’s throat. Hinata can only move as much as Osamu lets him, the hand guiding him both a blessing and curse as it sheds him of any control over his actions. He succumbs to Osamu’s will, following his lead with the hope that praise will follow. 

Hinata knows that Osamu is close when his hips start to stutter— small jerks that push his cock impossibly deeper no matter how much he holds back. He yanks Hinata back and replaces his mouth with his hand, furiously jerking the bottom half of his dick while Hinata swallows around the rest. When Osamu cums, he curls inwards, holding Hinata in place as cum fills his mouth. Hinata swallows as much as he can, the rest dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. Osamu finally lets go of his hair, letting Hinata pull off and lick up the rest of the mess around his mouth. Heart pounding, he watches Osamu smile. 

“I knew you could do it,” he sighs, eyes softening. Tension leaks out of Hinata’s joints as Osamu cups his cheek and pulls him back onto the bed. “Are you ready for your reward?”

Hinata shifts, cock straining against his pants. “I want you…” he mumbles, embarrassment burning his cheeks at the sound of his own hoarse voice. 

Osamu chuckles. His hand slips under the sash tied around Hinata’s waist to grip his cock. “I've got you, Shouyou. You can make do with this for now.”

Hinata can’t bring himself to argue, not when Osamu starts moving his hand. All that's left for him to do is starve for more, and pray that he’ll earn it. For now, he chases release in the form of Osamu’s fist, back bowed in his arms when satisfaction fuels to satisfy, left unsated for another day. 

—

The next morning, once Osamu has left for his duties, Hinata finds himself watching Atsumu more than usual. Maybe it’s the restlessness, the urge to please, the half baked fantasies and memories of being taken and held so tight he _knows_ he belongs. Maybe it's simply lust, baked into a body meant to please. Or maybe it’s the desire to prove himself to Atsumu, to vanquish the useless version of himself from his mind, with Osamu's words ringing throughout his head. 

Atsumu writes letters at his desk with one hand on his chin, calligraphy perfect and feather quill dyed a deep shade of red. The cool blue light from the overcast sky casts shadows across his face, deepens the hollows and makes cliffs out of his jawline. His regal aura extends here too, every aspect of his stature both princely and dangerous. Still, Hinata yearns for his hands to grace his skin, deadly as they may be. 

“What are you writing?” Hinata asks once Atsumu sets down his pen. He knows better than to speak up while the twins work. 

Atsumu slips one of the letters into an ebony envelope. “Invitations. There’s a _ball_ soon— a fuckin’ bore if you ask me.” He looks over to where Hinata lies on their bed, eyes raking over him. He hadn’t bothered to dress, clothed only in the sheer robe Osamu gifted him for humid nights. 

“What do you do at them?” Hinata asks. It’s genuine curiosity— never in his life had he attended a royal party of any kind. 

Atsumu, amused at his interest, shrugs. “Talk. Drink, eat. Dance. They’re best for getting something we want from someone who doesn’t want us to have it,” he explains. He smiles, eyes darkening. “Maybe one day, if you’re good, you can come along.”

Hinata sits up a little, robe falling off once shoulder as he does. “Really?” he asks, all earnestness. 

Atsumu smiles, rolling his eyes. “Not yet.” He stands from his desk and stalks closer to Hinata, fingertips running along the bedframe’s banister. Hinata's eyes wander from his long fingers to his exposed collarbones. He can't fight the blush that rises to his cheeks as Atsumu leans closer. “You’ll have plenty of time to prove yourself. For now, I have more important things to see to.”

With that, he turns on his heel, leaving Hinata alone amongst the covers, heat pooling in his navel, _aching._ Atsumu stops before closing the door, a golden key looped around his index finger. “Bye, Shouyou.”

He doesn’t wait for Hinata to reply, shutting the door with a gentle _click_ of the lock being turned. All that’s left for Hinata is an empty room and his thoughts, threatening to cloud his mind and consume him whole. 

—

Hinata waits the rest of the day for Osamu to arrive. He sits by the windows, he reads, he changes out of the robe and into proper clothes for the day. Servants come by with meals at noon, eyes averted and silent as ever. On a usual day, Hinata wouldn’t be bothered. Today, when he feels ready to crawl out of his skin, the loneliness is unbearable. 

When the lock clicks from the chamber’s double doors, Hinata’s heart has already started to pound. He moves to grab his pillow and prepare for Osamu’s arrival, only to be met with blonde hair and a fox’s smile. Atsumu stalks in, dropping his cape to the floor, and Hinata rushes to stand, caught red handed, clutching a pillow to his chest. 

“I _knew_ you and ‘Samu were up to somethin’,” he says, taking another step forward. Hinata sets the cushion back onto the chaise lounge in an attempt not to meet his eyes. “I know he ain’t fuckin’ you, so what is it?”

“H-how do you know that?” Hinata stammers, reduced to a shell as Atsumu closes the distance between them. 

“He made me a _bet._ About who could get you to beg for it first.” Atsumu takes a step forward. Hinata takes a step back, bumping up against Atsumu’s desk. “You haven’t been fucked nice and good in a while huh? You cravin’ it? Missin’ my cock?”

Hinata grips the sides of the desk, lacquered wood cool on his burning hands. Atsumu steps closer, pinning him in place with hips pressed flush to his torso. “I— no— I don’t—“ 

“Really?” Atsumu asks, grin spreading wider. Hinata almost faints as he leans in, lips brushing his ear. _“Liar,”_ he whispers, hand cupping Hinata’s stiffening cock. “I can _feel_ you.”

Denial falls from Hinata’s lips, but Atsumu is quick to kiss it away, tongue forcing its way into his mouth. The kiss is quick and dirty, and Atsumu pulls away after Hinata’s protest is consumed entirely. 

“Gonna admit it now?” he asks, hands moving to grip either side of Hinata’s waist. 

Hinata doesn’t answer, legs beginning to tremble. The fear that swells in his chest at Atsumu’s toothy smile is unmatched, yet he can’t bring himself to say anything. 

“Alright then,” Atsumu says. “We’ll play that game.”

And when Atsumu kisses him, _really_ kisses him, it’s like a forest fire.

Everything is burning, from his lips to his tongue and his mouth, to his chest and the pit in his stomach, tightening and every inch of skin Atsumu decides to grace with his presence. It _burns_ and the fire engulfs him from all angles until he has no choice but to submit to it, to part his lips and whimper as Atsumu slides his tongue across his cheeks and hums, to bend his back into an arch and press them closer and closer to keep the heat alive. Atsumu bites his lip when he stops kissing back, too overwhelmed in the sensation, and bites it _hard,_ enough to hint at iron and enough to pull him back down and kiss him back, hands gripped on the edge of the desk. That alone keeps him tethered as his blush travels down his chest, Atsumu’s tongue dragging along his as he exhales heavily. 

The old oak wood from Atsumu’s desk stabs his lower back in a way that’s more than uncomfortable in their current predicament. He knows that he could easily ask Atsumu to lift him, to lean him back against the flat surface, to bend him over the side, could _beg_ for whatever he wanted and get it if he satisfied Atsumu’s ever fickle mood. But despite it all, he wants to maintain some kind of dignity despite the way he writhes as Atsumu presses a hand against his bare abdomen. Wants, even in the throes of pleasure, to prove himself to Osamu unseen. 

“I bet you wanna be lifted up onto this desk, mhm?” Atsumu mutters against him, every word brushing their lips together. Hinata curses internally, because he’s an open book when he’s like this, and Atsumu has long since made a game out of figuring out what he wants in moments such as these. He angles his thigh between Hinata’s legs and kisses him once more, deep and rough, before pulling away to leave him chasing. “I ain’t givin’ you what you want unless you say _pretty please.”_

Hinata thinks about dropping to his knees right then and there out of pure fear of the way Atsumu’s eyes open to reveal pupils gone dark and a smile half teeth and half venom, a threat clothed in the lace of a command— _beg._ Hinata wonders how much easier it’d be to throw it all away, but there’s Osamu’s voice in his head that whispers _you can last longer than this_ that has him staying quiet and tightening his white-knuckle grip on the desk behind him.

Atsumu scoffs. “Alright, then. Be that way— it’ll be even sweeter when you finally do.”

And then he’s kissing him, and Hinata forgets to breathe as the leg between his thighs rides up and presses against his crotch. Hinata pants heavy and parts his lips, holding back a whine as Atsumu pushes up his crop-top, leaving Hinata’s chest free for his hands to roam. Atsumu kisses rougher and scratches his blunt nails down Hinata’s chest, enough to elicit another shiver even before he begins to thumb at his nipples. Hinata bites down on his lip, hard, ending the kiss as he tips his head back in an effort to restrain himself, breathing heavily instead. 

Almost instantly, Atsumu’s mouth moves to latch onto Hinata’s neck, sucking on his throat as he moves again to tweak Hinata’s nipple. Hinata breathes in sharply as teeth scrape his neck, Atsumu’s free hand gripping hard enough on his hip to bruise. His lips must be well past swollen now, shiny with spit and bitten raw. The beginning of a hickey throbs on his neck alongside his pulse as Atsumu kisses up to his ear and back down, noting where Hinata squirms and biting when he can hardly sit still. Every time he moves, Atsumu’s leg brushes against Hinata’s crotch, and every time, Hinata has to hold himself back from whining. It’s stopped being a game of not begging and become a game of not making any sound at all, letting Atsumu have his way with him while trying to hold back his reaction as the embers burn white hot inside of him. But it’s getting harder now, what with Atsumu mouthing along his sweet spot on his neck and his fingertips rolling his pert nipples, and his breaths are short and his palms are sweaty and _god_ he wants nothing more than to grip Atsumu’s hair and hold him closer and release the noises building at the back of his throat, but his pride has a vice grip on his dignity, though it's starting to wear down.

Suddenly, the door knob clicks, triggering the seize of Hinata’s muscles in fear of what the intruder might see. But it’s no intruder— it’s Osamu, and Atsumu must know that or be ballsy enough not to care, because he pinches Hinata’s nipple and bites the lobe of his ear, forcing Hinata to grit his teeth and catch Osamu’s hooded eyes and fox-like grin as he shuts the door and saunters over.

“Well, well,” Osamu drawls, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Ain’t _you_ just perfectly debauched?”

 _Fuck,_ Hinata thinks, and whimpers, back arching into Atsumu, who hums impatiently and bites down on his neck. The hand on his chest leaves to grab his jaw and hold it steady, Atsumu glaring down into Hinata’s eyes in dissatisfaction despite him having broken the unofficial rule of the game he doesn’t want to play anymore.

 _“Beg,”_ Atsumu says, _demands,_ a snarl on his lips as he grips Hinata’s jaw tighter. “Or all you get is an untouched hard-on and your hands tied behind your back for the night.”

And Hinata keens, eyes fluttering shut for a moment despite the thumping of his heart in his ears, the instinct to run pumping adrenaline through his veins that has his entire body shaking with more than just fear. Atsumu clicks his tongue as he pushes Hinata closer to the desk, the weight he puts on the knee between Hinata's legs almost painful.

“Do you like that? Do you want somethin’ worse?” Atsumu growls. “Or would you rather just open those pretty fuckin’ eyes of yours, get on your knees, and _beg_ to be touched again?”

He lets go of Hinata’s jaw and steps back to stand by Osamu, leaving Hinata to stumble as he regains his footing. The twins stare him down, Atsumu, seething with annoyance tainted rage, Osamu, with a careful kind of mischievous smile that stills Hinata’s heart, if only just for a moment. Taking a deep breath, Hinata flickers between Osamu and Atsumu’s eyes before focusing on Osamu and dropping down to his knees with a dull _thud,_ cheeks burning with shame and eyes hungry with desire.

“P… please,” he rasps, watching as Osamu’s smirk grows. “T-touch me— just…”

“Just what?” Osamu asks, tilting his head. 

_“Anything,”_ Hinata says, crawling forwards a step.

“Anythin’? Really, Hinata?” Osamu asks, kneeling down to his level and reaching out to brush his knuckles against his cheek. “Because if I had my way with you, you’d be tremblin’ and shakin’ for _hours_ before I’d give you what you _really_ wanted. I wouldn’t stop until you’d forgotten your own name.”

And Hinata keens, leaning into Osamu’s touch as a mumbled _please, yes, please_ falls off of his tongue. Osamu chuckles softly and slips his hand away, leaving Hinata to fall forwards in anticipation as Osamu stands and looks back at Atsumu with a lazy smile. “Is that enough beggin’ for you?” he asks him, watching as Atsumu shoots him a death glare and closes the gap between him and Hinata, moving to hover over top of him and place his foot over Hinata’s crotch, leaning over to sneer.

“So, are you ready to listen?” he asks. “Are you ready to be good for us? For me?”

“Yes,” Hinata says, and it comes quick, without hesitation.

Atsumu presses down harder on Hinata’s crotch. “Yes _what?”_

“Y-yes, Atsumu,” Hinata stammers, praying to any god that this is the answer he wants.

Luckily, it is, and the foot on his crotch leaves as Atsumu turns and walks across the room, sitting on the edge of their bed. “Then come here ‘nd prove it.”

Hinata swallows thickly as he shifts his feet underneath him, looking up as Osamu takes his arm to help him to a stand. He winks slyly before letting him go, hand travelling down to Hinata’s lower back before vanishing completely as he heads to sit opposite his brother, waiting with cool eyes and a smile. 

Slowly, Hinata steps forwards, legs weak but holding him upright as he closes the distance between them. The airy fabric of the skimpy clothes he wears flows as he walks, hiding how he shakes in want or need or fear or a combination of all three. The moment he comes up to stand within arm's reach of Atsumu, he’s pulled down into his lap and flipped onto his back, the air knocked out of him as Atsumu leans down and kisses him once more.

The fire rages, and Atsumu is nothing if not rough edges, hands feeling up the blades of his shoulders and nails dragging down his back. Hinata hums against his lips and lets his hands reach up to tangle into Atsumu’s hair, tugging sharply as teeth find his already abused bottom lip and bite down. Whatever noises Hinata now makes are swallowed as Atsumu’s tongue feels up the underside of his and the backs of his teeth, pressing hotly against his as drool pools between their lips. Hinata’s skin tingles in want of something _more,_ his grip pulling Atsumu closer as he wriggles against the covers of the bed. Their lips smack as Atsumu pulls back, a long strand of saliva connecting them as he moves to sit on Hinata’s waist. He makes a show of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before raising his hands to the collar of his ruffled shirt, pausing at the first button once he spots Hinata’s wide eyed anticipation.

“D’you want me outta my clothes?” he asks. Hinata nods eagerly, reaching forwards only for Atsumu to lean back. “Greedy. Not until you’re done first.”

Hands reach from behind as Osamu grabs his wrists and pulls them back, pinning them above Hinata’s head. He turns to look over to Osamu, who sits behind him with a silent smirk. “Can you handle this?” he asks.

“O-of course,” Hinata stammers, his determination faltering as Osamu’s grip tightens. 

Atsumu steals back his attention by biting his chest, Hinata yelping as Atsumu undoes the tie that holds his halter top up. The clasp at the back is next, and within seconds the garment is discarded onto the floor. It was never very concealing anyways, but its removal gives Atsumu all of the more room to touch, to feel. He licks a line on Hinata’s stomach and hooks his fingers under his waistband, clicking his tongue as Hinata squirms. 

“Impatient?” he chides, raising a brow. “Just minutes ago you were tryna say you didn’t need this— _now_ look at you.” 

As if to prove his point, he drags a fingertip down from Hinata’s navel, along his happy trail, stopping at Hinata’s pants. Hinata shudders and whines as Atsumu stays still, watching him with amusement clear in his eyes. 

“Maybe I should make you beg again,” he says, looking up to Osamu. “‘Samu, whaddya think?”

Osamu tilts his head, thinking for a moment. He drums his fingertips against Hinata’s wrist before looking down at him with a smile splitting his face in half, eyes lidded and dark. “I don’t know, ‘Tsumu. Maybe Shouyou can let us know how badly he wants this.”

A noise dies in Hinata’s throat as he bites his lip, nodding feverishly. “I-I want it, _please,_ Atsumu—“

“How badly?” Atsumu asks, leaning forwards to loom over him. 

_“So_ badly,” Hinata breathes, heart pounding in his ears. “I want— I want— I want whatever I can get.”

“Oh, you can get anything,” Osamu mumbles. “That is, if you earn it.”

Atsumu tugs his pants off down to Hinata’s knees, leaving him to kick them off as Atsumu begins to run his hands over Hinata’s bare thighs. Hinata arches his back in anticipation as he watches as Atsumu’s hands trail closer before pulling away. He knows better than to do anything but wait, what with Osamu still pinning his wrists down, but he can’t help the subconscious jerk his arm gives in his impatience. Osamu narrows his eyes and holds his arms down tighter, making Hinata whimper in the process.

Atsumu spreads his legs and bites the inside of his thigh, kissing where the skin grows hypersensitive and keeping his distance from where Hinata wants him most until bruises bloom and his voice begins to grow hoarse. 

“A-ah— Atsumu,” Hinata whines, legs sliding against the silk bed covers. 

“Hm? Do you want something?” Atsumu asks him, tone coy and light. Hinata groans in indignation, squirming again as Atsumu settles between his thighs. “Spit it out.”

 _“Touch_ me!” Hinata nearly snaps, voice desperate. Atsumu’s smile only grows, his hands splaying on Hinata’s hips. 

“Dunno about you, but I think you’re forgetting something,” he says, nails beginning to dig into his skin. 

_“Please!”_ Hinata corrects, voice jumping an octave. “Please, Atsumu, _please—“_

“Finally,” Atsumu hums, wrapping his hand around Hinata’s dick, giving it light, barely there strokes. “That wasn’t that hard, hm?”

Hinata groans in reply, eyes shutting as he leans back into the softness of the bed underneath his head. “More,” he mumbles. “P-please.”

Atsumu leans forwards so that his lips ghost Hinata’s ear, grip tightening as his pace speeds up. “Better?”

Hinata hums, voice hitched, head lulling to the side, giving Atsumu room to resume kissing his neck. He can feel Osamu’s heated eyes on him as his nails dig into his palm. Atsumu flicks his wrist, rubbing and stroking and dragging a long whine from Hinata’s throat.

Atsumu’s long since memorized the ways to get him off, how to play him like a fiddle. It’s something Hinata can’t dare to complain about, especially as he writhes against the silken sheets with Atsumu’s weight and Osamu’s hands pinning him down. Atsumu licks a stripe up Hinata’s neck, up to his ear where he hums and Hinata _whimpers,_ making Atsumu laugh lowly. 

“You love this, don’t you, Shouyou? Bein’ at our mercy, lettin’ us have our way with you,” Atsumu teases in his ear. Hinata’s ears burn with shame as he keens, but a larger part of him screams _yes_ as he arcs up, pressing their chests together. Atsumu drags his unoccupied hand down Hinata’s chest, trailing light touches that have him shivering. His other hand squeezes around Hinata’s dick as he flicks his wrist again, eliciting a broken gasp from deep within Hinata’s chest. He’s not gentle with his motions, but Hinata never expected him to be, and braces himself for what’s yet to come as his insides begin to spark. 

One hand leaves his wrist as Osamu reaches over to grab a vial of oil. The scent is familiar— tropical floral notes that Hinata assumes are native to the region— and as it’s passed over him from one twin to the other, the cork pops off. Some oil dribbles onto his stomach, cool enough to make him twitch, arms reflexively jerking against Osamu’s hold. His grip tightens, and a small noise escapes Hinata not unlike a yelp that has Osamu grinning wider. Atsumu’s hand leaves him as he sits up and slicks his fingers with oil.

“Turn around,” he commands, leering down at Hinata as Osamu lets go of his wrists. Hinata complies, rolling over onto his stomach only for Atsumu to grab his hips and yank them back, folding him over so that his ass sticks up. He blushes furiously, shame overtaking him as he lies with his chest pressed against the bed, dick heavy between his legs as the only testament to just how badly he needs this. Osamu’s hand works itself into his hair at the same time Atsumu teases his rim with the tips of his forefinger, humming idly before pushing in.

Hinata bites down on his lip, forcing his body to relax as Atsumu stretches him. He squeezes his thighs together only for them to be forced apart again, Atsumu’s grip on his waist near bruising as another finger enters him. A small gasp leaves his lips, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by Osamu. He slowly begins to massage Hinata’s scalp, combing through his hair to remove any small tangles. It’s in an incredible contrast to the rough ministrations of Atsumu behind him, massaging his fingers against Hinata’s walls. And Hinata chews the inside of his cheek, eyes squeezing shut, because he _likes_ it, likes the jolt of pain that subsides into pleasure, likes the burn when Atsumu scissors him open. He doesn’t want to admit it, but is sure the princes already know— his breaths have grown shorter, after all. Relief feels like a distant memory now, something that he’ll constantly be trying to earn. 

“Good,” Osamu mumbles, and Hinata looks up, stares into his eyes and revels in the darkness staring back at him. Osamu smoothes down his hair again, distracting Hinata from another shudder as Atsumu adds a third finger. It’s one word, and yet, Hinata feels himself buckle, the praise enough to make him whine. It’s muffled by the silk sheets, but still audible enough for Atsumu to hear. He laughs, low and sharp, and drags his fingers roughly against Hinata’s prostate to hear him gasp.

“You like that?” Atsumu asks, smugness radiating from his tone. He thrusts his fingers in deeper, holding Hinata back from grinding against them. “Ready to admit you like bein’ fucked like the whore you are?”

Hinata nods, unable to bring himself to speak. His throat knots with the exertion it takes not to cry, hands shaking as they fist into the sheets. Atsumu snickers, removing his fingers and wiping the oil left on them onto Hinata’s thigh. “Pathetic,” he spits. “Get up, take your face outta the sheets and answer me properly.” 

Osamu yanks him up by the hair, eliciting a sharp cry from Hinata. He quickly scrambles to lift himself up and relieve the pressure on his scalp, acutely aware of the lack of hands on his bare skin. Standing on all fours, his chest heaves, shame pooling in his gut as he stares at Osamu, at his slight smile and dark eyes. 

“I… like it,” Hinata grits out. He’s met with resounding silence and the burning of two sets of eyes boring into his skin. “I like being fucked. Like a— a whore.”

Osamu reaches forwards, smile growing as he tips Hinata’s chin upwards. He pets Hinata’s cheek with his other hand, humming as Hinata leans into the touch. “Only for us. Our pretty little whore. Ain’t that right, Shouyou?”

“Yes,” Hinata breathes, voice strained as Osamu continues to caress his cheek. There’s rustling behind him, but he pays it no mind, staring up at Osamu as if to plead for more kindness. “Yes, _please,_ I—“

He’s cut off as Atsumu grips onto his hip, giving him not a moment to prepare as he thrusts in fully. Hinata’s voice dies in his throat, a strangled moan taking its place as the burn becomes masked with an aching kind of pleasure. He glances over his shoulder to see Atsumu grinning, buttons on his flowing shirt popped to expose his chest and trousers still on, the fine fabric rough against Hinata’s thigh. The surprise doesn’t fade in time for him to brace for Atsumu setting an unforgiving pace, pulling Hinata’s hips back to fuck him deeper onto his cock. He’s never been taken from behind before, has never had the luxury of knowing Atsumu can’t see the way his mouth hangs open as he grinds deep inside of him. For that one small gift, he finds himself at his total mercy, manhandled into total submission as Atsumu takes from him what he pleases. 

Osamu, though— Osamu sees it all. He watches Hinata twitch, listens to every hitch in his breathing and every broken, breathy moan, with eyes half lidded and a tongue licking his lips. “What a pretty sight,” he sighs, as if gazing out at the sea and not the lewd display of Hinata trembling in an effort not to fall as Atsumu pounds into him. He reaches out again, cupping Hinata’s cheek. It steadies his head even as his body rocks forwards with the force of every thrust, and though Hinata tries his best to meet Osamu’s gaze, his eyes flutter shut at the sharp sparks that jolt through him each time Atsumu hits his prostate. 

“Your eyes are all glassy. Like a doll,” Osamu continues, and suddenly that comforting smile holds no comfort at all, sinister and cold. Hinata shudders, biting his lip as he blinks furiously up at Osamu. “Mm, they always glaze over when you’re just this flushed. Makes you look absolutely _delectable._ If only you could see it, ‘Tsumu.”

Atsumu chuckles from behind him, rolling his hips against Hinata’s. “I think the view I got is a little more than just pretty.” Hinata can feel his hands massaging his ass, nails digging into his skin when he pulls his hips back again. He leans forwards and the angle inside Hinata shifts, just enough to make his shoulders shake, just enough for Atsumu’s cock to hit his prostate when he slams in. 

_“Ha—ah,”_ Hinata pants, stomach coiling. It’s a small sound, but it’s enough for Osamu to let his eyes flutter shut, a deep sigh leaving him as he unbuttons his own trousers and takes his dick into his hand. Behind him, Atsumu groans, growing rougher as he picks up his pace. Hinata’s upper body collapses at the sheer force of it all, chest hitting the sheets and cheek pressing up against Osamu’s hip bone. With him pressed up like this, Atsumu has the leverage to fuck harder, rising up further onto his knees. It doesn’t help that the slightest change in position makes it all the more easy for his dick to pound into the bundle of nerves deep inside of Hinata, leaving him a drooling mess in Osamu’s lap. 

Through the haze in his mind and the mounting sensation in his gut, Hinata feels Osamu’s dick press up against his cheek. Looking up through watery eyes and thick lashes, he meets Osamu’s gaze, one hand tangling back into his hair. “Mm, why don'tcha put that cute mouth of yours to good use?”

Hinata nods, eager to please in the moment, and lets Osamu guide his lips to the head of his dick. It’s hard not to be sloppy as Atsumu continues with his relentless pace, but Hinata takes him into his mouth and ends up bobbing his head at the same time as Atsumu’s thrusts, forced deeper by the power of it and the hand on his head. Hinata gags when Osamu’s cock brushes the back of his throat, struggling not to choke as his tongue runs along the length. He pulls back to steady himself only to be shoved down further, nose pressed to Osamu’s pelvis as he swallows around him, tears pricking his eyes as he struggles to breathe. Osamu holds him there for a while, rolling his hips up into Hinata’s awaiting mouth. Hinata breathes harshly through his nose, the vibrations from his moans enough to make Osamu’s hand tighten in his hair. 

“That’s it,” he says lowly, voice breathy as he looks down at Hinata. “Good boy.”

Hinata whimpers, eyes squeezing shut as the pressure in his gut grows. He grows closer and closer the deeper Atsumu’s thrusts reach, each one dragging roughly on his prostate until he finds himself shaking on the edge of release, clenching down roughly against Atsumu. He speeds up, fucking him harder as the orgasm rips through him, cum splattering onto the bedsheets. Hinata cries and moans on Osamu’s dick, pulling his head back slightly in an attempt not to choke, feeble in the aftershocks that rocks through him. The strength to properly move his head leaves him, what with the constant overstimulation of Atsumu fucking into him even as his thrusts grow shallow and sloppy. Osamu’s hand runs through his hair as he continues to use his mouth, bobbing Hinata’s head on the upper half as his free hand jerks the rest. Hinata has half the mind to suck on the head, even as his eyes fall shut in exhaustion. 

Osamu pulls him off, Hinata coughing and catching his breath as he jerks his hand faster, and in a few moments, cum splatters across Hinata’s lip and onto his cheek. He doesn’t miss the broken moan rumbling through Osamu’s chest as Hinata absentmindedly darts out his tongue to lick up some of the mess, nose wrinkling at the taste. His head rests back against Osamu’s hip for the last few minutes before Atsumu finishes, coming deep inside of him with his nails digging deep into the flesh of Hinata’s ass. 

Utterly spent, Hinata stays limp as Atsumu pulls out, cum leaking down his thigh. He’ll need to bathe properly before he’s allowed to sleep, but Osamu makes no move to carry him to the washroom, so he allows himself this moment of respite. He’s aching all over, throat sore and rough as he breathes, but the fingertips on his scalp are soft enough to lull him into the security that he craves, even as Atsumu begins dragging his fingertip along the bruises of his own creation.

“So good for us,” Atsumu praises, a light laugh leaving him as Hinata allows himself to collapse, panting and sweaty and _satisfied._


	5. solstice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut cw: mirror sex, somnophilia
> 
>  **HEY GUYS READ THE END NOTE BEFORE COMMENTING IF YOURE WORRIED ABOUT UPDATES THANK YOU!**  
>  anyway! welcome back to trash au! i wanna give another BIG BIG BIG SHOUTOUT TO NYANA for making [YET ANOTHER AMAZING PIECE OF FANART!!](https://twitter.com/nyanayuki/status/1277242865060655104?s=20) its so good... hinatas expressions... and just... waow......... i love it so much ohmygod.  
> i hope you enjoy this chapt of trash au!!  
> -mooks
> 
> —
> 
> the lasts scene is one of my FAVOURITES. idk. its so good. let us know if u wanna see more like that... this is the last of the prewritten stuff for now! we have 10k that is later in the story and gotta build up to it >:3c youre in for a ride  
> -kj

It’s hard to stare at his own naked reflection. Smattered across his skin are scars, scars _they_ created, tiny and white as they've healed over the months. Hinata knows the twins love to run their fingertips over them, especially the one burned onto his back left shoulder. Osamu hangs over him like a spectre, hands smoothing down bare shoulders oiled with the scent of coconuts lingering on his skin. Tall and dressed in his usual finery, he ghosts his hands over the stack of folded garments lying on the vanity beside them. A line of goosebumps rise on the back of his neck as Osamu grabs a long, floor length dress from the pile. He holds it up to Hinata’s collarbones, the shimmering fabric a cherry red with small beaded embroidery of cranes. Though the fabric is light and airy against his skin, Hinata can appreciate the extravagance of the piece. Osamu drapes a sash over his shoulder in a deeper shade, lined in the same pattern as the dress. 

“Traditional Inarizaki dress from over two hundred years ago. Modernized, of course,” Osamu says. “The clothes of this era are very elegant, don't you think?”

Hinata nods, bringing his fingers to rest over the embroidery. “It's… for me?”

“Mm, it is. I know this one will fit, but…” Osamu trails off, draping the clothes back over the vanity. “There’s something else I want to see you in now.”

Hinata cocks his head, watching as Osamu sifts through the pile of clothes. “What is it?”

Osamu pulls back, holding a bundle in his arms. “You’ll see. Turn and face me.”

Obeying without question, Hinata waits patiently for Osamu to unwrap the garment, curiosity growing by the second. The cotton shroud falls away to reveal pink lace, delicately woven with ribbon bow-ties. Osamu drapes a few of the pieces over his forearm, holding out first a halter top that seems almost too small to fit Hinata’s chest. 

“Arms up— don’t worry, it’ll stretch,” Osamu assures him. The lace is snug as Osamu pulls it down his body, stretching easily over his shoulders to rest just below his pectorals. Osamu’s fingers brush the back of Hinata’s neck, tickling him as he secures the halter with a bow. Next is a pair of panties, held out for Hinata to step into. They sit high on his hips, a line of ruffles barely hiding the swell of his cock. Hinata looks down at himself. Blush travels down his navel, legs moving to cross and hide himself under Osamu’s gaze. He stops when hands wrap around his waist, holding him tight not to reprimand, but to warn. Hinata relaxes, slowly, and Osamu continues, fastening a ruffled belt around Hinata’s centre. Dangling from two thin strips of fabric on either hip are garters, with floppy pink bows that tickle the peach fuzz on his thighs. Osamu crouches down, hands smoothing over the swell of Hinata’s ass, and guides Hinata’s feet through each loop. His hands wrap easily around Hinata’s ankles in a way that serves to make Hinata feel more delicate than he already is. Dainty and small. Precious. 

“There we go,” Osamu says, rising back to his full height. He tips Hinata’s chin up to face him with a gentle smile. “How does it feel?”

Hinata shifts, rubbing his thighs together. The lace is soft, cotton detailings softer, fabric stretching to expand as he breathes. “It’s good,” he tells him, voice a little breathier than he meant it to be. “Does… does it look how you expected it?”

“Even better. Take a look for yourself,” Osamu says. He smooths his hands up and down Hinata’s arms before spinning him around to face the mirror. Goosebumps rise on Hinata’s skin in a wave of warmth that has him reaching back to cling to Osamu’s sleeve. The lingerie leaves little to the imagination, ruffles barely hiding Hinata’s growing bulge, peachy pink tones of the lace melting into his skin. Just as embarrassment begins to fester in the depths of his stomach, Osamu leans down to kiss up the side of his neck. 

A heavy blush blooms across Hinata’s cheeks and ears. “Ah, Osamu…” Hinata murmurs, twisting his head away as not to stare at his own state of unravel in the reflection. He twists in Osamu’s hold, leaning further back against him. 

“Don’t look away, darlin’,” Osamu says, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear. Pushing up on the other side of Hinata’s cheek, he forces Hinata to face back towards the mirror. “Want you to appreciate how pretty I’ve made you.”

A high pitched noise escapes Hinata in one long breath. He manages to meet Osamu’s eyes in the reflection, eyes already glassy. Squirming, he pants and watches Osamu palm his cock through the thin confines of his panties. The teasing sensation is nearly overshadowed by the kisses pressed to Hinata’s ear. Hot and messy, the subtle _click_ of Osamu’s tongue along his earlobe sends waves down Hinata’s spine where they pool deep in his gut. Each kiss that’s pressed near Hinata’s ear drives his blush further down his chest. Hinata watches himself fall slowly into debauchery, grinding uselessly against Osamu’s hand. 

Osamu doesn’t punish him for grinding up against his palm. He lets Hinata jerk and buck his hips against him, smiling against the sensitive skin of his neck while Hinata makes broken, small noises. His breath hitches as Osamu bites his neck, soothing the sharp jolt of pain with a skilled tongue. It becomes a challenge for Hinata to simply keep his eyes open and _look,_ but breaking Osamu’s singular command doesn’t even cross his mind. Even as his knees tremble with the weight of his own limbs, Hinata forces himself to look forward at his reflection, at the flushed head of his cock peeking out from the ruffles of his panties. With a smirk, Osamu brushes his thumb along the slit, chuckling into the crook of Hinata’s neck when Hinata jerks in response. 

“Osamu…” Hinata whines, turning his chin so that their cheeks press together. Osamu leans lower to slot their lips together in a sloppy kiss, one full of tongues and spit that gives Hinata a moment to shut his eyes. When Osamu pulls away, it’s with a grin that leaves Hinata melting, resting all of his weight onto Osamu behind him. 

Osamu laughs, a puff of air on Hinata’s cheek. “Do you like that?” he murmurs, repeating the motion a second time. When Hinata jerks in his arms, Osamu pushes his hand lower, dipping his hand underneath the hem of his panties and cupping Hinata in his palm. He wraps his fist around the base of Hinata’s cock and moves in stunted motions, held back by the lace. Yet, he makes no move to pull them down, content to watch Hinata struggle with what he can get— short strokes that give Hinata only as much pleasure as Osamu allows. In that moment, constrained by Osamu’s gifts, Hinata accepts it, creating his own pleasure from the restraint and every exhale of air by his neck.

“M-more,” he finds himself saying, greedy even when he knows Osamu has given him enough. “Osa- _ah_ -mu, _please.”_

The _tut_ of Osamu’s tongue snaps him from his daze. “Soon. You’re awfully impatient today. I know we’ve been busy, Shouyou, but don’t I take care of you?”

Hinata watches the daze in his eyes leave, replaced with the heavy burden of shame not yet weightier than the arousal in his stomach. “I— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t lie— I know you meant well,” Osamu says, voice coddling, hands firm. “You want more, hm?”

Before Hinata can answer, Osamu bends Hinata forwards, shifting his balance so that he’s forced to plant his hands on the mirror to steady them both. His saving grace is the mirror’s integrity. Bolted to the wall, it doesn’t budge, not even as Osamu begins to jerk him off in earnest. Hinata looks down at himself, at Osamu fisting him through the lace, at the splotches of blush that bloom across his stomach. He pants, pushes back, and groans. Pressed against his thigh is Osamu’s unmistakable hardness, nearly as telling as the smile pressed to the nape of Hinata’s neck. 

Osamu bites down on the meat of Hinata’s shoulder and rolls his hips against his ass. Trapped between Osamu and the mirror, all Hinata can do is pant, melting in his own pleasure. He’s Osamu’s to dress up, Osamu’s to take apart, Osamu’s to toy and play with however he pleases. Even the cool glass of the mirror pressing against Hinata’s forehead can’t stop him from burning up from the inside. All he can do is shudder and shake, breaths growing shorter and shorter as he approaches his climax. 

“Are you close?” Osamu murmurs, licking a stripe up his neck. “You sound like you’re close, baby.”

Hinata nods, catching his breath. “A-ah, yes,” he stammers. 

“You look so good right now. Look how pretty you are,” he says. Hinata lifts his head, staring himself down through the mirror. His features are pinched tight, eyes glazed with a layer of bliss that he struggles to see through in the midst of his pleasure. Osamu kisses the bend of his jaw and smiles, still stroking his dick at an unrelenting pace. “This is the sight we’re graced with. Ain’t we lucky?”

“Please…” Hinata gasps, Osamu twisting his wrist. “Please, Osamu—“

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to cum,” Osamu tells him. He hums, staring Hinata down in the mirror with pupils blown wide. “Just let me enjoy this a little longer.”

Hinata whines and watches himself pout in the mirror. Osamu’s words are a command as much as they are a reassurance— his release is imminent, but held back by Osamu’s will alone. Osamu continues to press kisses to the back of his neck, eyes sharp as they match his gaze. His thighs begin to tremble under his own weight, stomach twisting. “Please,” he whimpers, staring back at Osamu in the mirror. 

Osamu smiles. “Do you need it?” 

_“Yes,”_ Hinata pleads, back arching against Osamu’s chest. 

“Then you can cum, baby,” Osamu tells him, stroking him faster. “Go on and cum for me.”

It only takes a few more strokes before Hinata cums, seizing up in Osamu’s arms. The mirror hides nothing from him, forces him to watch his lips fall open and eyes scrunch up in his own ecstasy. His panties catch the majority of his release, smearing the rest against his stomach. Hinata lets his eyes fall shut as Osamu pulls out his hand, wiping the mess onto the lace. 

“You’re all dirty now,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to Hinata’s cheek. 

Embarrassment pools in the place where his pleasure once was. “I’m sorry, I—“

“Shh, we can always clean it up.” Osamu pulls back, hands sliding to rest on Hinata’s hips. Hinata chances a look over his shoulder to see Osamu’s eyes cast down, staring at Hinata’s ass. “‘Tsumu was right,” he says, grabbing a handful of Hinata’s butt in one palm. “This _is_ a pretty view.”

Hinata squeezes his legs together in a vain attempt at gaining some kind of long lost decency. Lace tickles the inside of his thighs, only heightening a body tingling with sensitivity. He takes a deep breath, limbs heavy in the afterglow, and rests his eyes closed. He could almost sink in Osamu’s arms and sleep, calm until he feels Osamu pull back his panties. 

“Wh—“ Hinata starts, voice cut off as Osamu pushes a finger inside of him. The fragrant aroma of oil mingles with the bitter musk of sex, as shocking as the sudden coldness of the lube. “Osamu—“

“Quiet now,” Osamu says. He pumps the single finger in and out of Hinata, forcing him closer against the mirror. “No need to speak. I gotcha.”

A noise dies in Hinata’s throat. Osamu wastes no time in fingering him, working him open so that he can insert another finger without issue. Osamu knows just the way to curl his fingers inside of Hinata to make his knees begin to wobble. Now, after already having cum, Hinata struggles to stand, even with his palms planted firm on the mirror. Hinata couldn’t be more thankful for the firm grip of Osamu’s palm on his hip holding him upright. Even held up as he is, Hinata fumbles each time Osamu thrusts his fingers against Hinata’s prostate. The sharp rush inside of him forces his limp dick to twitch, which doesn't go unnoticed by Osamu. He curls his fingers up against the bundle of nerves and draws a stuttered cry from deep inside of Hinata’s chest, chuckling softly in his ear. It’s times like these, with Osamu’s voice low like a purr as it snakes around his spine, that Hinata is reminded of just how little mercy Osamu has. 

“You’re so sensitive, cryin’ and blushin’ like you haven’t been fucked like this before,” Osamu tells him, his voice tinted with marvel. A third finger pushes past Hinata’s rim, opening him up wider as Osamu’s hand slides up to Hinata’s chest. Hinata’s body is forced upright, eyes falling on the mirror image of his own perversion. “Still so tight, like when you were a virgin. Can’t wait to feel you.”

His fingers push deeper inside of him, oil trickling down Hinata’s thigh. Hinata sees Osamu’s gaze drift back down to his ass, watching intently what Hinata can only feel. There’s nowhere to hide from his own reactions to Osamu’s ministrations. His shame does nothing to deter the desire to be taken, to feel Osamu stretch him further than just three fingers. Hinata pushes his hips back in an attempt to force them deeper, only for Osamu to pull them back. 

“Oh? You think you’re ready now?” Osamu says. Hinata meets his gaze in the mirror, face blotchy and red. Osamu just smiles, leaving Hinata to hold himself up while he unbuckles his trousers. The seconds it takes Osamu to slick up his cock with oil pass at an unbearably slow pace. All Hinata can do is squirm in anticipation and melt the moment Osamu’s hand comes in contact with his ass. He grips one cheek with the palm of his hand, hooking his thumb along Hinata’s panties to pull them to the side once again and expose his hole. 

Hinata’s breath catches the moment Osamu’s cockhead pushes past his rim. Osamu doesn’t bottom out in one smooth motion. Instead, he goes inch by tortuous inch, savouring the way Hinata stretches around his girth. It’s just like Osamu, too, to make him wait for it, to force him to lay in the mess he’s made. And as Osamu bottoms out with his hips flush to Hinata’s ass, Hinata swears he can feel Osamu’s dick weigh down against his belly through his own state of aroused delusion. 

“Ahh, Osamu...” Hinata whines, cock twitching as it tries to stiffen once more. “Too— too much.”

“Mhm?” Osamu hums, rolling his hips against Hinata’s. “But you feel so good… you can do it, Shouyou. You were just beggin’ for it.”

Hinata tries not to show how badly Osamu’s words affect him, and fails the moment his thighs begin to quake. He can feel his hamstrings stretch with the angle Osamu pushes him into. One hand presses into the small of his back, forcing him to arch his chest towards the mirror while his legs, spread shoulder width apart, stay ramrod straight. The burn is nearly comparable to that from Osamu’s dick splitting him open.

Osamu starts slow, rocking forwards with short thrusts. Hinata is grateful for the moment to catch his breath, but there’s always a cost— Osamu’s pace leaves no room for escapism. Hinata feels every movement, every twitch of his hips, the drag of Osamu’s cock as it pushes in and out. Hinata’s breath fogs the mirror, wet and heavy, tainted with soft moans. His lungs ache with exertion, his muscles tremble, but Osamu doesn’t stop. He takes in every shiver, each shake, all while draping himself over Hinata’s back.

“You like that?” Osamu murmurs, pulling another gasp from Hinata with teeth on the nape of his neck. When he doesn’t respond, Osamu fucks him harder, pushes him up against the mirror until Hinata can’t help but look at his reflection. “Tell me, baby.”

 _“Yes!”_ Hinata chokes. “Mmngh— _ah—_ Osamu, I need— please—”

Osamu huffs a laugh into Hinata’s skin and digs his nails further into his ass. “I know baby, I know. You’re doin’ so good for me.”

The cry that escapes Hinata’s lips is pitiful even to his own ears. He squeezes his eyes shut and rests his forehead to the mirror, unable to face his own lewd display. In the silence, every sound becomes louder. Skin meeting skin, the wet slide of Osamu’s cock in and out of him, and the soft groans behind him all remind Hinata of the state he finds himself in. Even the gentle scent of the oil is one Hinata has come to associate with being taken. It mixes with the heavy scent of sex, unwinds his muscles as it reaches his nose. At this point, he could melt at the smell alone.

Osamu’s unrelenting pace, though slow and deep, catches up with Hinata. No amount of breathing could save him from sweat slicked skin that slips against the polished glass of the mirror, or the failure of spent muscles to hold. Osamu grabs him when he stumbles, pinning him to the mirror once more.

“‘Samu, I need— I need—” Hinata manages to stammer, unsure of what he’s asking for. The buzz of overstimulation combined with the way his cock now presses up against the mirror drives away the last shreds of his composure. When Osamu reaches down and grabs his dick, he nearly sobs.

“Close?” Osamu murmurs. Hinata whines in response, unable to speak as Osamu starts to fuck him harder. “You can cum, but I’m not done with you.”

Hinata gasps, shaking his head. “Can’t— I can’t—”

Osamu chuckles as he jerks Hinata’s cock in time with his thrusts. “You’re so tight ‘round me— my little slut always wants more, hm?” Hinata says nothing, continuing to moan nonsensically against the mirror. “That’s okay, baby. I’ll give it to you.”

Hinata’s breaths become shorter and shorter, until he isn’t breathing at all, body wound tight like a knot and caught in a moment of pure tension. His orgasm is drawn out, ripped from deep inside his navel as his cock uselessly dribbles whatever cum he has left. Osamu, true to his word, doesn’t let up. He fucks Hinata through the aftershocks and fucks him even after Hinata goes limp in his arms. His tears are silent this time, running down his cheeks and into his open, panting mouth. They’re from exhaustion more than anything, the sudden rush of chemicals in his brain expelling through salt water and tiny sobs. At the very least, Osamu is close, face buried into Hinata’s neck as he chases after his own release. 

Osamu cums buried deep inside of Hinata, hips stuttering and nails raking down his ass. He bites Hinata’s shoulder to stifle a groan, one that’s still felt by the proximity of his chest to Hinata’s back. When all is said and done, they stay connected for a few moments after, breathing in the heady scent of sex before Osamu pulls out. Hinata’s underwear slides back into place, no longer pulled to the side by his thumb. As the high begins to leave, Hinata becomes uncomfortably aware of how the cum soaked lace chafes against his thighs. 

“I— I made a mess,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

Osamu pulls Hinata back and turns him so that they finally face one another. Besides a slight flush on his cheeks, swollen lips, and ruffled hair, Osamu almost seems unaffected. Even the heavy fabric of his regalia kept his blouse from being pushed out of place. Hinata, and the smudged, tear stained mirror behind him, are the only evidence of their activities. 

Gently, Osamu thumbs Hinata’s cheek, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “It’s nothin’ that won’t come out in the wash. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” 

Hinata nods, holding himself steady with Osamu’s biceps as he’s stripped out of the lace. Osamu is careful with the garments, not shying away from the mess on the fabric as he folds each piece. Naked once more, Hinata lets himself rest on the planes of Osamu’s chest. His thighs ache enough that his knees fully buckle, unable to stay straight. Taking pity on him, Osamu sets the lingerie aside and lifts him into his arms, holding Hinata in a bridal carry.

The baths are as beautiful as ever, lit evenly by sunlight shining in through stained glass windows. Hinata sighs as he is lowered into one of the shallow tubs already full of water. The steam caresses his skin even before he touches the water, and warmth sinks into his bones in a way that pulls him closer towards sleep. 

“That’s it,” Osamu assures him. The sharp sting of his ass touching the bottom is soothed by his words, but Hinata doesn’t mind. The hurt inside of him, the pull in every muscle, the ache in his bones will stick with him even after he leaves. It’s Osamu’s mark, a tether that makes known who he is. Hinata’s place in the princes’ lives is defined by this ache, justified by it. Hinata clings to the feeling, as uncomfortable as it is, and lets himself doze off as tender fingers work the knots from his hair. As long as he feels like this, he’ll be enough. 

—

In the days that pass, the mirror is buffed clean and Hinata’s bruises fade from blue to a dull yellow. In the meantime, the twins begin the last of their preparations for the ball celebrating the winter solstice, or the official start of the region’s rainy season. From his place at the window, Hinata watches the frenzy from afar. Lanterns are lit, canopies draped, and the pitter patter of rain becomes accompanied by the sound of music drifting throughout the halls. The heavy humid air permeates into the princes’ chambers, inescapable even here. Hinata, surprisingly, doesn’t mind it. The air is cool but damp in a way he’s never quite experienced. It leaves his hair slightly frizzy, only to be tamed by light oils Osamu spends evenings raking through his hair. 

The day of the ball arrives with spectacle and fanfare. No less than four attendants arrive to dress the twins in their regalia, fussing over every detail from their shoes to their capes. Hinata, not used to watching their entourage work, looks on from his place at the bed. His instructions ring in the back of his mind: don’t speak unless spoken to. Osamu had made sure he was dressed in much more modest fashion than usual before the servants arrived, going so far as to drape a shawl over Hinata’s shoulders. 

From where he sits at the vanity, Atsumu huffs. “Careful with the earrings or I’ll do it myself,” he snaps, jerking away as a servant accidentally tugs on his dangling jewelry while attempting to comb his hair. The diamonds cast candlelight across the room in a tiny prism, enchanting and elegant despite being so small. Atsumu sighs, casting a look over to Osamu. “I swear, they do this every time.” 

Osamu rolls his eyes. “They do it ‘cause you don’t sit still. Thought you’d know how by now.” Atsumu groans, and Osamu clicks his tongue. “Quit your whinin’.”

“Quit _your_ whinin’ ‘bout me whinin’,” Atsumu says, tipping back his head. “Are we done?”

“Almost, your highness,” one of the servants tells them. “Just the crowns are left.”

Two servants don silk gloves, approaching the table where each crown rests. Gingerly, they lift them from their place among velvet, holding them up to the light before resting on the forehead of each respective prince. The sight is one to behold, no matter how many times Hinata watches. The shimmering gold of the crown against the warmth of their skin leaves Hinata breathless and filled with awe. The entire room goes silent as Osamu stands, cape fluttering behind him, and takes a step towards the bed. 

“You’re dismissed,” he says, eyes already trained on Hinata. “Leave us.”

The attendants are quick to leave, bowing to the twins who already have their attention elsewhere. The door closes behind them with an almost inaudible _click,_ leaving Hinata alone once more with both Miyas.

Osamu is the first to sit on the bed, reaching over to brush Hinata’s bangs from his face. “Good job,” he says, and the praise fuels the selfish part of Hinata that hopes, rather vainly, that he won’t be left alone that night. 

“You look… beautiful,” Hinata breathes, leaning into Osamu’s touch. 

“Thank you, darlin’.” Osamu presses a kiss to his forehead, letting his hand slip down Hinata’s back. “You’ll be good while we’re gone, right?”

Hinata hesitates once, stomach sinking, before he nods. “You won’t be long, right?”

“It’ll be dark when we come back,” Atsumu tells him, striding to the other side of the bed. “You’ve been alone for longer.”

“But you’ll miss us all the same,” Osamu coos. Hinata drops his gaze, savouring the touch as long as he can. 

“I’ll be good,” he promises them. 

Osamu tips his chin back up to meet his gaze. “Of course you will.”

The kiss that follows is soft, but with promise of more. Osamu moves with purpose, tilting Hinata’s jaw to give him access to the warmth of his mouth. Tension slowly leaks from Hinata’s shoulders, bleeding out with every stroke of Osamu’s hand down his back. More and more Hinata leans into Osamu’s arms, until they're pressed chest to chest. 

The kiss breaks slowly, with Hinata sighing into Osamu’s hold for a few precious moments before he pulls away. Hinata stares up at Osamu, blinking twice before sitting back down onto the covers. 

“Look at you,” Atsumu says, a laugh half audible on his tongue. Hinata turns his head in time to watch him swoop down and capture hold of his cheek. Osamu rolls his eyes and steps away, giving Atsumu the room to sit down. “You thought we might take you?”

The shame that builds in Hinata’s chest keeps him from speaking. All he can do is nod, fighting the urge to cower into the pillows. 

“You did, didn’t’cha?” Atsumu says, bringing himself closer. “You gotta earn it, Shouyou. Maybe next time.”

Atsumu kisses Hinata before the whine can escape his lips, hands fisting in Hinata’s shawl. He’s nowhere close to gentle, biting Hinata’s lips at the same time that he pulls his hair. Whimpering, Hinata finds himself pulled into the ferocity of the kiss, so much so that the meaning of Atsumu’s words melts away. As long as he is held, he can think of nothing else. 

This time, Hinata chases the kiss after it's broken, panting with the effort it takes to hold himself back. His hands itch to pull Atsumu closer by the lapels, but all he can do is look up at Atsumu’s smile, self satisfied, smug. Atsumu leans down to kiss him again and again, each time messier than the last, smearing spit and the taste of strawberries across Hinata’s lips. They never part for more than a moment, with Atsumu just as reluctant as Hinata to leave his side. 

“Atsumu,” Hinata whispers, mumbles against his lips. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for— to be wanted? To be reminded he’s needed? To be cherished and displayed like the jewels hanging from their necks?

“They’re waiting,” Osamu says, voice distant, yet amused. Hinata feels Atsumu frown against his mouth, feels the huff of air on his lips as he sighs and pulls back just an inch. 

“Be good,” Atsumu tells him. “I wanna have a pretty sight to come back to.” He straightens, smoothing out the sash tied around his torso. There’s little haste as he drags his feet towards the door, lagging behind as Osamu steps back in front of Hinata.

Osamu offers him a smile, cape swishing as he ducks down towards Hinata one last time. “We’ll be back before you know it,” he says, and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

With that, the princes exit the bed chambers, locking the heavy double doors behind them. In moments, the room is engulfed in silence. Though Hinata is used to spending days alone, his nights have always been blessed with the constant presence of each twin. Without company, Hinata is left to sit in silence with only the sounds of his own making filling the air. It’s lonely, yes, but the sheer boredom is worse than the slow throbbing pang in his chest. If he listens hard enough, he can hear the tuning of orchestral strings floating above the warmth of chatter. It’s harder, he figures, because he can only imagine the ball taking place below. 

Wallowing in his thoughts grows useless in minutes. Hinata pulls himself from the bed and looks around the room for something else he could focus on. He eventually stops in front of the massive bookshelf that stands beside Atsumu’s desk. Fashioned from polished oak, the shelf is as impressive as the books it holds. Though Hinata doesn't often find himself with his nose buried in a book, he’s read some of the literature Osamu keeps by his bedside. Atsumu’s personal collection is much more daunting. Unlike Osamu’s collection of poetry, Atsumu’s bookshelf holds political memoirs, historical accounts, and weighty volumes on various philosophical theories. Hinata faces the leather bound spines with apprehension, tracing his fingers along each ridge in search of titles that suit his interest. Once his arms are full with enough books to block his view, he staggers back towards the lounge, very nearly dropping his stack as he sits. 

The first book he opens is so filled with nonsense jargon that Hinata barely finishes the first page. He leaves that one lying on the ground at his feet, untouched in favour of a smaller, well worn book titled _On Cultured Climates and Our Country._ Hinata flips past several pages of dedication and skims the first chapter for its diagrams of various kinds of plants. He pauses, staring with no small amount of amazement at the hand painted pictures of flowers with brighter colours than he’s ever seen. _Hibiscus._ _Strelitzia._ _Orchidaceae._ Pages upon pages are filled with different variations of each flower, each more unique than the last. Hinata pauses on one kind of orchid and drags his finger up and down the brilliant fade of orange to yellow. Beside it is a heading— _The Dynasty Fox Orchid._ Intrigued, Hinata reads on.

 _Though its blossoms are small in comparison to other orchids in the area, the Dynasty Fox Orchid is one of the defining symbols of the nation. It is only found in the lush foliage growing alongside the Ohkawa River,_ _making it both rare and one of the Dynasty’s most coveted resources (besides agriculture). The orchid is sought after for its potent dye, made from the rich orange tones in its petals, though all parts of the plant are used. It’s leaves contain a fiber present in many artisanal paper products; its roots are boiled and eaten or kept fresh through preservation; and its leaves can be used in a bitter medicinal tea. For these reasons, many choose to grow the flower from seed instead of foraging for it in the wild. Over the centuries, the cultivation of Fox Orchids has become a delicate— prize orchids are often sold for small fortunes as it only blooms in the wild during the final three months of the rainy season._

The orchid itself looks almost fox-like, with a triangular shaped blossom. Hinata tries to think if he’s ever seen something as awe inspiring and comes up short. Even as he devours the book in its entirety, taking in the various drawings of plants in all of their glory, his mind lingers on the beauty of the flower and its depiction. His mind wanders, wondering whether he’d ever get the chance to see any of these flowers in person. Surely the extravagant gardens, seen only from his window, are home to these wonders and more. 

When he's finally read the book cover to cover, Hinata flips back to the front page. The author and illustrator both signed the inner cover, leaving their own mark on the work of art in Hinata’s hands. It’s dated over a decade old, and stamped with the now familiar insignia of the royal family. But what stands out amongst the well preserved parchment is the neat scrawl of a different pen just under the first page. 

_For my darling son, my one and only Atsumu. May the fruits of your labour bloom. Love, Mother._

Hinata traces the looping scrawl, suddenly feeling as if he’s somewhere he shouldn’t be. There’s a mark between _only_ and _Atsumu,_ a smudge of ink that catches Hinata’s eye long enough to make him think. Neither Atsumu nor Osamu have mentioned their parents in more than passing— what Hinata knows of them is common knowledge learned through his travels. The queen died some years ago due to consumption while the king currently retains his title as the reigning monarch. The twins assume all of his duties, allowing their father to rest in his grief in a place far away from the castle. Hinata wouldn’t dare press, not when the command to _speak only when spoken to_ still hangs in the air. Though he’s free to speak to a certain degree when he’s alone with the twins, this is a boundary he’s sure he can’t cross. 

The book is closed and set aside in favour of another text: _The Glory of the Inarizaki Kingdom._ Now that he lives here, belonging to the Miya’s, Hinata supposes he should expand his view of their nation beyond fine silks and their crown jewels. It’s as much a historical textbook as it is a geographical study. Hinata wonders if he hasn’t just plucked one of Atsumu’s scholarly texts from when he was still learning how to rule the kingdom. Written at the beginning is a similar note from his mother: _To my dearest Atsumu, with love._ The pages are littered with detailed accounts of various lineages and their movements across the country. Hinata pays special attention to the maps of different geological regions. 

The Dynasty’s climate is made up of two main seasons— a hot, drier season, and a cooler rainy season. The transition from one to the next is when most of the harvests take place, ending with the respective solstice. Today, the twins celebrate the winter solstice with a grand ball, while common families hold small festivals and feasts among their villages. It makes sense then, why the Miyas had spent so much time planning and working towards this celebration. Not only is it of political importance, but the date holds cultural significance to a country defined by its vast array of natural resources. These celebrations, Hinata gathers, are a moment of worship, a prayer that the next year brings the same bounty as the last. Sitting alone in his room with no celebration to partake in, Hinata prays that the next season’s bounty will allow him to stand by the princes’ side. 

Hinata flips the page, expecting more information on the region only to be met with a map. It’s as he runs his fingers over the creases that he realizes it folds out to show not only the Inarizaki Dynasty, but a large portion of the continent of Hondo. 

[The focus of the map is largely on the Dynasty’s location in relation to other countries.](https://ibb.co/w76J9jg) The coastal nation of Aoba Jousai sits to both the east and west, Nekoma to the north, and Nohebi to the northwest west. A tear in the map cuts off the northern countries of Fukurodani and Datekou that lie beyond Nohebi’s border, leaving a rough edge in the path of the Ohkawa river. Majority of the left side of the map is also ripped off, effectively leaving the majority of Kamomedai torn. As strange as it is, Hinata can’t help but be drawn to the mountain range far from Inarizaki’s border. Strange does his homeland seem, cut off and far from Inarizaki. The sprawling fields and sparse forests, alongside lush fields are brighter than anything else, gorgeous just like everything the twins have shown him since he arrived. 

Suddenly, Hinata is faced with the reality that he is alone— again. The promise of the twins’ return is sound, and he hangs every hope on believing that they’ll return just like they said. Still, it does little to ward off the cloying sensation of loneliness that hangs in the room. No amount of words or pictures could soothe the ache in his chest, but the distraction is better than wallowing in the silence of the bedchambers. Pushing his thoughts aside, he digs into another book— _The Dynasty and Its Borders._ The hardcover is dented in several pages, gold leaf still intact but pages bent as if thrown and crumpled. 

Strangely enough, all of the books Hinata took are in a similar condition. Split spines, torn pages, damaged covers— each book looks terrible despite the undeniable regality and importance they all carry. Even the hand painted book of flowers and flora has been marred by deep scratches on the embellished leather cover. It’s unlike the Atsumu Hinata has come to know to keep imperfect items on display. All Hinata can think of is the dedications left from his deceased mother. Perhaps, underneath a thick layer of snark and disdain, Atsumu’s heart beats with regret and grief for a mother lost. A mother never mentioned in Hinata's presence. A queen that exists only as a spectre in the halls of a palace no longer her home. 

Hinata buries his nose in the book, hoping to escape the unsettling churn in his chest. Politics are enough of a distraction, requiring all of his attention to try and understand. Hinata never had reason to be versed in other countries beyond Karasuno— he knew who they were to his former nation, but not on their own. Years of conflict with Aoba Jousai at the mountain border left their relationship soiled. Inarizaki’s relations seem much less tense— old wars to secure their stretch of coastline and the Ohkawa river were ended with peace treaties still standing today. The book speaks of a relationship maintained by the trade of different fabrics and fibers, and that otherwise, the nation’s don't often mix. Part of that is due to Aoba Jousai’s tense relationship with the Shiratorizawa peninsula, which Inarizaki _also_ shares a border with. Inarizaki has, in most major conflicts, supported Aoba Jousai’s control of the Shiratorizawa coastline despite ancient battles to gain control of the Ohkawa river. Their allyship hinges on Inarizaki’s support in conflicts against Shiratorizawa, and Aoba Jousai’s peaceful acceptance of Inaraizaki’s control of the river and surrounding coast. It’s only through careful negotiations and the consistent training of the continent’s strongest army that Inarizaki is able to become the political powerhouse it is. 

The Nekoma and Nohebi feud is covered in several chapters of its own. Inarizaki had backed Nohebi in nearly every major conflict between the nations over the last century, holding a strong border with Nekoma that is notoriously difficult to cross. Inarizaki’s trade with them is limited, and often done through Aoba Jousai. Their relationship with Nohebi is much stronger, fueled by an allyship formed in trade of Nohebi’s mining resources and Inarizaki’s agriculture, only solidified by their backing of Nohebi’s wars. All trade from the northern countries comes through Nohebi, usually by boat on the Ohkawa river. Especially coveted are Datekou’s technological advancements made from their rich ores, and furs from the Fukurodani trade. Karasuno’s mountain pass with Datekou allowed for some trade, but difficult terrain made the prices of any import too expensive for the average person. 

He thinks of his mother and sister, in their humble home by the mountain side, living without the luxuries of iron and steel, and quickly shakes his head. He can't think about that. He can't. There’s nothing left for him there. Not anymore. 

Hinata’s head swarms with information as he forces himself to read on. Countless wars secured Inarizaki’s place on either side of the Ohkawa, and an unwavering lead has kept the people of the nation prospering. Hinata’s hands grow cold. He’s never asked the Miyas about their training as military generals, though he was told of it before leaving Karasuno. Maybe it’s for the best— he has learned intimately the power they both wield. 

And yet, he still longs for them more than he can bear. Inches of skin crawl with the ghost of their touch, while his lips burn with the promise of kisses when they return. No amount of fine fabric or woven shawls can truly imitate their hold. The weight of each book in Hinata’s arms increases tenfold, minutes dragging on into hours that fade like the evening sky into darkness. When Hinata can't bring himself to read anymore, he hefts each battered book back into the shelf, careful not to inflict anymore harm onto their broken spines. After he’s finished cleaning up after himself, he stands unmoving, facing the empty bed. He hasn’t spent a night alone since he moved into this room, hasn’t had to dress himself for bed in months. It feels strange, almost. The silken robe falls midway down his thigh, just covering the swell of his ass. It's soft against his skin and simpler than what Osamu might have chosen, but Hinata loves the way it drapes over his wrists and allows for air to flow past his skin. He ties it loosely and makes his way to the bed, lying amidst the covers in an attempt to rest in anticipation of the Miyas’ return. 

He doesn’t quite reach a deep sleep, but drifts in a hazy place between unconscious and awake. In his dreamlike thoughts, he pictures the ocean, a vast swath of blue that stretches on. The world that he once knew has swollen to include countries that, at one time, were only a whisper, and things he could never have imagined. Sandy shores. Flower blooming year round. The sway of humid air on a mid morning breeze. His fingertips buzz with the knowledge that the men he lies in bed with have all of that and more at their fingertips. They control the tides that can either carry Hinata to safety, or send him to drown. What lies on the other side of this sea Hinata is still stranger to is a mystery that unravels with every day spent in their good graces. For now, he lets himself be soothed by the waves, and waits.

—

He’s startled awake by the sound of the double doors being thrown open without care and slammed unceremoniously in the same motion. He hardly manages to prop himself upright before Atsumu throws himself onto the bed and pins Hinata to it. The momentary shock is replaced with a joy so filling it swells throughout his entire chest. Atsumu wraps his arms around Hinata and squeezes, groaning into his neck. Hinata can’t bring himself to be confused by his actions, not when he and Osamu have finally returned. 

“Welcome back,” Hinata manages to say, voice strained somewhat by Atsumu’s hug. He looks up over Atsumu’s shoulder to see Osamu smiling as he unfastens his cape. “H-how was the ball?”

 _“Terrible,”_ Atsumu bemoans, just barely lifting his face from Hinata's neck. “Nobody knows how to shut up. I ain’t ever leavin’ this bed again.”

Osamu clicks his tongue, slapping Atsumu’s back as he passes. “You’re disgustin’. We have to bathe and you’re still wearin’ your full attire.”

Atsumu lets out what, under any other circumstance, Hinata would not hesitate to call a _whine._ It vibrates through Hinata from where their chests meet, and Hinata nearly fails to suppress a giggle at the absurdity of Atsumu’s behaviour. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Atsumu, who lifts his head to glare at Hinata without moving from where he’s pinned him down. When Hinata’s face drops, he grins. “Happy to see me?”

“He's been so good, waitin' patiently for us to come back,” Osamu says, still undressing at the side of the bed. The layers take time to peel off, and Hinata can only see so much with Atsumu looming completely over him. “You’re excited to have us back, ain'tcha, Shouyou?”

“Mhm!” Hinata responds in earnest. The smile that stretches across his face is utterly shameless despite his blush. 

Atsumu cocks a brow. “Well if you missed me that much…” he murmurs, dipping so that their foreheads press together. 

He never finishes his thought, instead meeting Hinata’s lips with a heavy, open mouthed kiss that steals his remaining breath. Atsumu’s weight is near crushing even as he props himself up onto one elbow, keeping Hinata pressed firmly against the mattress with no room to move. Atsumu kisses him with the fever of a starved man. His hands ruck up Hinata’s robe to slide across bare skin, nails digging into the soft flesh of his thighs. Hinata just barely manages to work his arms out from under him and grip onto Atsumu’s shoulders, anchoring himself just in time to taste the faint hint of whiskey on Atsumu’s tongue. 

The kiss is sloppy, with Atsumu’s tongue lavishing the inside of Hinata’s mouth and every curve of his teeth. His hips grind down against Hinata’s, in time with the nails that scratch down his thighs. Hinata gasps, lip sucked between Atsumu’s teeth in a bite that would hurt in any other circumstance. Now, the pain fades into his longing for any kind of touch. The hands on his waist brand him with Atsumu’s desire, forcing him to submit wholly and completely to his feast of Hinata’s skin. When Atsumu breaks the kiss to bite at the fleshy joint between Hinata’s neck and shoulder, Hinata sighs in the most sweet relief he’s felt all day. Atsumu teeth dig into his neck without a second thought about hurting him, emboldened by the hot press of his lips sucking on the wound. His kisses are wet and somewhat sloppy, focused more on touching whatever skin he can manage rather than bringing about a certain reaction. Hinata reacts all the same— with tiny whines that make him squirm and press up against Atsumu’s hardening cock. 

But as soon as it starts, it ends. Hinata is just about to wind his hands into Atsumu’s hair when Atsumu’s entire body goes limp, flopping first onto him then onto the bed beside him. “Nope,” he pronounces, less to Hinata and more to the ceiling. “I’m too tired.”

Hinata gawks. He stares in awe at Atsumu, who rolls over and presses his face into the pillows. Before he can long for the missing contact, Osamu curls a hand in his hair, coming to stand at his side. He’s lost all of his clothes but his underwear, leaving Atsumu the most dressed in the room.

“If you’re not gonna bathe, at least get undressed. I’m not lettin’ Shouyou sleep in the same bed as your filth,” Osamu says, all while stroking Hinata’s hair. 

_“Fine,”_ Atsumu snaps, all intensity lost as his voice is muffled by the pillow. He forces himself upright and begins peeling the layers of his regalia off, fighting with his jewelry the whole time. Hinata folds each article of clothing that’s thrown onto the ground, watching with no small amount of awe as Atsumu strips naked, pulls on a soft pair of sleep pants from his drawers, and tackles Hinata to the bed only to squeeze him tight to his chest. It takes a second for the air to rush back into Hinata’s lungs, but when it does, he can only stutter a laugh in disbelief. 

“Atsumu?” he says, turning as best he can in Atsumu’s death grip around his waist.

“He’s already passed out,” Osamu tells him. He rolls his eyes. “Brat.”

Out of all of Atsumu’s moods Hinata has borne witness to, this may be the strangest. The soft sound of snoring in his ear soothes any worry that he’s somehow dreamt his behaviour, and Osamu’s words prove that, yes, this is still Atsumu behind him. 

“Does he… get like this often?” Hinata asks, shifting so that he escapes Atsumu’s hold. 

Osamu tilts his head, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “‘Tsumu doesn’t always like dealing with people. He expects them to bend to his will— not the other way ‘round,” he explains. His fingertips drift over Hinata’s hairline, pushing back his bangs. “Balls mean putting patience into practice.”

Hinata nods, mulling the words over. It makes sense— Atsumu is as proud as he is stubborn, with a temper that rivals his charm. Osamu’s hands are much easier to understand than the inner workings of Atsumu’s mind. They’re gentle, reverent even, pulling Hinata from a space of worry and confusion to one of comfort and bliss. He hums in content, and Osamu’s lips quirk. 

“You’ve been so good,” he tells him. “Do you wanna join me in the baths? I’d much rather you sleep clean.”

Hinata wriggles out from under Atsumu completely, unable to contain his smile. “Thank you.” 

Osamu’s hand is warm in his own as they walk towards the baths, but the lips that brush against his own inspire a flutter deep inside that’s even warmer. All of the day’s stress is washed away in a half hour with hot water and Osamu’s arms, with the sweet fragrance of chamomile drifting through the air. With kisses pressed to his shoulders and a heart floating in his chest, it’s no wonder that Hinata drifts off into sleep the moment he climbs back into bed, pressed between the two people he wants most.

—

It’s late when Atsumu’s hands begin to wander beneath the sheets, storm clouds leaving the night sky moonless and black. Hinata lies sound asleep between him and Osamu, dead to the world, simple silk night robe already riding up his thigh. Despite all of his earlier exhaustion, a familiar kind of electricity thrums through his veins. Half memory, half dream, Atsumu blinks away the image of Hinata’s collarbones, heaving, littered with bruises. Atsumu pulls him closer, his chest to Hinata’s back, and slides a hand up his thigh to rest at his hip. His skin is smooth and soft under the palm of his hand, the peach fuzz on his thighs raising slightly as Atsumu pushes higher, up towards his waist. He bides idle time caressing his stomach, feeling a fluttering heartbeat under his fingertips when they reach his chest. His own arousal has begun to stir, but he ignores it— for now. Hinata breathes slow and deep, the rise and fall of his body pushing his ass against Atsumu’s crotch. 

An inkling of curiosity spikes in Atsumu’s waking mind. Slowly, he thumbs over Hinata’s nipple, scraping his nails lightly across his chest. Hinata doesn’t react beyond twitching slightly, breathing mellowing out in mere seconds. Emboldened by the new game before him, Atsumu holds Hinata flush against himself and brings his lips to kiss his neck, kissing the pulse that beats so steady below his skin. Nibbling on the tender skin, Atsumu continues to pinch Hinata’s nipple, listening for the faint increase in heart rate. There is none, and so he continues, moving higher up Hinata’s neck and lower down his abdomen, parting the thin robe that parodies privacy. 

Hinata’s cock is half hard when Atsumu touches it, and he has to stifle a chuckle. He briefly removes his hand to lick a stripe up his palm before returning to slowly squeeze Hinata’s dick. Hinata begins to shift slightly, pressing back against Atsumu’s chest. Atsumu hums lowly, palming Hinata with heavier pressure. No sooner does a soft, muffled moan escape Hinata, sparking heat in Atsumu’s chest. His kisses on Hinata’s neck become sloppier, his groping rougher, until Hinata’s shifts become squirms and a small gasp escapes him. Before he can cry out in surprise, Atsumu raises a hand to cover his mouth, kissing behind his ear.

“Shh… it’s just me,” he mumbles, hand still clutching Hinata’s now hard cock. He removes his hand from Hinata’s mouth, returning it to his chest. 

Hinata’s fast-paced breathing pushes them closer together, even as his shoulders begin to drop. “W-what are you doing?” he asks, voice sharp and still raspy from sleep. 

Atsumu tweaks Hinata’s nipple, enjoying the noise of surprise it garters. “Playin’ a game. Be quiet, would ya?” 

Hinata’s eyes, finally having adjusted to the darkness, focus on the sleeping face of Osamu in front of him. “But Osamu is _asleep,_ he’ll wake up.”

“Not if you keep your voice down he won’t,” Atsumu whispers, biting his ear again. Hinata holds his breath, not responding, legs widening ever so slightly to give Atsumu the room to move with further ease. “There you go…”

Hinata closes his eyes, unable to watch Osamu sleep as Atsumu begins to jerk him off in earnest, firm but unbearably slow. Atsumu’s cock presses into the curve of Hinata’s ass, still clothed by the soft cotton of his undergarments but unignorable as Hinata shifts with the growing pleasure in his abdomen. He breathes heavily from his nose, biting on his lip with the knowledge that if he opens his mouth, needy moans will slip through. Even so, his throat hums with strangled noises, unbridled in the haze of sleep and pleasure. 

Atsumu teases the head of his cock with his thumb, holding Hinata tightly as he jolts. More than being silent, it’s hard to stay still, the tingling pressure of Atsumu’s mouth sucking hickies on his neck and the mounting pleasure too much to simply lie down and take it. He involuntarily grinds back against Atsumu in an effort not to jostle the sleeping Osamu, hips rolling back and forth as Atsumu picks up his pace. 

“Atsumu,” Hinata breathes, squeezing his eyes shut. “Atsumu I— I’m gonna—”

“Already?” Atsumu whispers into his ear with disbelief. “It doesn't take much with you, huh? You filthy slut.”

Hinata bites down onto his tongue, stifling a cry just as Atsumu squeezes the base of his dick, starving off his impending release. It cuts through the air, and for a moment, he’s dead silent, heaving as Atsumu shifts behind him, eyes open and staring at Osamu for any sign of wakefulness. None comes, and Osamu remains dead to the world, cheek squished against the pillow and eyes heavy and closed. As Hinata catches his breath, he examines the details still visible this far into the night— a faint scar from chicken pox by his hairline, the glow of his skin, the chapness of lips on a half open mouth. It calms Hinata enough that he startles at the press of Atsumu’s oiled fingers to his rim, the oil frigid against burning skin. 

“Hn— too _cold,_ don’t…” Hinata whines, pulling the covers up to his mouth to muffle himself. 

Atsumu huffs out a laugh, warm breath tickling his hair as he rubs his thumb over his hole. “You’re in no place to argue. I can do whatever I want with you. You’re _mine,_ Shouyou,” he whispers, tone dark and sending a shiver down Hinata’s back. “Besides, it’ll warm up in a bit.”

One finger probes Hinata’s entrance, sliding in up to the knuckle with ease. Hinata shivers again, the lube cold against his insides. He writhes, biting down on the blanket as Atsumu moves his finger in and out. His other hand gradually begins to jerk Hinata off, loose and light, the way he knows Hinata can’t stand. Another moan escapes him on the tail end of an exhale, and Hinata twitches in Atsumu’s hold. 

No later does a second finger join the first. Atsumu curls them against his walls, massaging them as he drags his fingers in and out, in and out. The lazy thrusts build anticipation more than anything, Hinata’s stomach fluttering when Atsumu probes deeper, faster. He twists his hand, and the tips of his fingers brush against Hinata’s prostate. Hinata jolts, head tilting back to rest on Atsumu’s shoulder as he presses against it again, massaging the spot relentlessly. Hinata tenses, hands twisting covers and biting down harder to muffle the noises trying to escape. His dick throbs in Atsumu’s palm, the heat in his navel returning once more. 

“Don’t you _dare_ cum yet,” Atsumu warns, pressing closer against Hinata’s back.

Hinata shakes his head as best he can, heart rate picking up in fear. “A—Atsumu, I can’t— I can’t—”

“You _will,”_ Atsumu hisses. The rush of fear flowing through Hinata only makes it harder to hold back, body tensing as he arches himself like the string of a bow. Atsumu inserts a third finger, and the stretch combined with the overwhelming attention to his prostate makes Hinata’s mouth fall open wide. He sucks in a deep breath of air, yanking on the covers, nevermind how they pull off of Osamu’s shoulders, too caught up in the excruciating pleasure of Atsumu starving him yet again with a firm hold at the base of his cock. 

A choked sob leaves Hinata as Atsumu slowly pulls out his fingers, wiping the now warm lube onto Hinata’s hip. Hinata blinks away a few tears, staring at Osamu as he does so. His body is still, and it’s all the confirmation Hinata searches for before being assured he hasn’t been found out. His eyes fall closed, and he waits for Atsumu’s arm to wrap around him once more, the head of his cock pushing past Hinata’s entrance. 

Atsumu moves slowly at first, holding their bodies flush together, sinking to the hilt, hips flush against Hinata’s ass. He doesn’t give Hinata the benefit of getting used to the deep stretch, rolling his hips almost instantly as he sets a pace with short, hard thrusts. Hinata feels himself, and the bed, be rocked forwards each time. The covers only do so much to blanket the sound of their skin meeting. Hinata whimpers in a final, meek protest, cheeks burning and stomach coiling with pleasure.

“Ah— it’s— too much,” Hinata whispers, moans slipping in between each word. “Moving too much, too loud—”

Atsumu reaches a hand up to grab Hinata’s chin, tilting his head back to bare his throat as he bites his ear. “Are you talking back to me?” he asks, and Hinata shakes his head without a second thought, pressing his lips closed, shutting up and taking it. Atsumu’s thrusts grow deeper and his hand leaves Hinata’s jaw to rest on his chest, giving Hinata enough room to breathe. 

Atsumu brushes against Hinata’s already sensitive prostate, and it takes everything in Hinata not to cry out. Still, his eyes fly open, and he’s once again met with the face of Osamu in front of him. But this time, he isn’t sleeping.

Mortification doesn’t begin to explain the embarrassment that washes over Hinata as he meets Osamu’s eyes, knowing full well that he’s a mess with bed head, sweat, tears, and a swollen bottom lip. He shudders without meaning to, finally crying out without fear of being heard, tears brimming in his eyes. Osamu smirks, touching his fingertips to Hinata’s lip to smear his drool back over his mouth.

“Did you finally wake him up?” Atsumu asks behind him. “Couldn’t help but cry like a whore, huh?”

Hinata sobs, tears rolling down his cheeks. “N—no, I wasn’t— it was the bed— I couldn’t—”

Atsumu drives into him roughly, yanking his hips back, making him yelp in surprise. _“Liar,”_ he spits. “Some fuckin’ nerve you have, talkin’ back to me. Do you _want_ to be punished? Who do you think _owns_ you?”

“Y-you do,” Hinata whimpers through his tears, blinking rapidly. Osamu begins to brush them away, and the momentary tenderness is enough for the unbearable pleasure to surge through him once more. 

Osamu sighs, holding his cheek. “What a sight to wake up to,” he mumbles, stroking Hinata’s face as he moans. “You, tryna stay quiet while gettin’ spread open.”

Hinata burns with shame, dick twitching at Osamu’s words. Behind him, Atsumu laughs. “I can feel you squeeze around me… Are you getting off this much on bein’ watched?”

Hinata whines, squirming in Atsumu’s hold. The truth is, he _is—_ the knowledge that he can’t hide from Osamu’s watchful eyes makes his gut wrench all on its own. Osamu places a hand on Hinata’s chest, fingers splaying out to cover his collar bone. Hinata’s hand flies up to grab his, tangling their fingers together as Atsumu continues to fuck him. Osamu brings their joined hands closer towards his face, lowering his head to kiss Hinata’s knuckles. Hinata’s chest flutters in a moment of unbridled affection that’s paired with a weak whine. Slowly, Osamu brings their hands lower, pushing Hinata’s hand into the confines of his sleep pants. Hinata feels the shape of his cock against his hand and blearily wraps his hand around it, feeling it twitch under his hold. Osamu guides his hand to a steady pace, making up for Hinata’s hazy mind, humming gently as Hinata continues to moan. 

“C-close…” Hinata stammers weakly, choking on his spit as Atsumu grinds roughly inside of him. 

_“No,”_ Atsumu growls, squeezing the base of his dick once more. Hinata has nowhere to go, can hardly squirm, let alone thrash as the ache inside of him grows. Shame wells within as tears pool onto the silken pillows, and Hinata, beyond begging, goes silent, weakened in body and mind. Osamu uses his free hand to comb through Hinata’s hair, stroking his face gently. 

“You’re all quiet now,” he mumbles, narrowing his gaze. “‘Tsumu, you pushed him too far.”

Atsumu groans into Hinata’s ear, scoffing. “He can take it. Can’t you, Shouyou?”

Hinata cries out, nodding quickly in fear of being punished. “I— I— yes—”

“See? He _needs_ this,” Atsumu sneers, thrusting forward sharply. “Ain’t it what you’re good for?”

Hinata’s throat wells up, knotting his stomach. When he doesn’t answer, Atsumu grips his hair, yanking his head back. Hinata’s mouth falls open, wincing as Atsumu’s thrusts grow harsher. “I said, _ain’t it what you’re good for?”_

“Yes!” Hinata yelps, squeezing his eyes shut. He mindlessly grinds back against Atsumu, unable to stay still. His gut pulls tight, the overwhelming sensation bordering on pain as the ache of pleasure becomes just an ache. Osamu kisses his neck, holding him steady as Atsumu continues to pound into him. 

“Please, please, please,” he whispers, voice hoarse from crying. “I—I’ve been good, ha— haven’t I been good? I’ve been good, _so good,_ please, Atsumu—“

“You wanna cum? Wanna show us how much you need this?” Atsumu asks, fucking him faster. Hinata nods, arching his back as Atsumu’s hold tightens on his cock. The tender flesh throbs as he twists, jerking him with harsh motions that leave his toes curling. Nothing leaves his mouth but a plethora of pleas, broken through sobs that wrack his body.

Atsumu laughs, low and rumbling. “Gods, you’re pathetic. What do you think would happen if I stopped you again?” 

A surge of panic flashes through Hinata as he opens his eyes. “No! Please, no, let me— please—”

“Ah, I won’t… this time,” Atsumu tells him, continuing to stroke him. “But don’t you forget who you answer to.”

And Hinata lets go, painting Atsumu’s hand with cum as his body goes limp in his hold. Osamu’s gentle touch grounds him as his mind threatens to float away, away from the pleasant ache, the aftershocks, and the still sensitive assault as Atsumu approaches his own release. His thrusts grow sharp and deep, his grip on Hinata’s waist tightening, the hot breath on Hinata’s neck burning. He bites down as he finishes, hips stuttering, muffling a groan against Hinata’s skin. As he pulls out, Hinata feels cum leak down his thighs, shuddering at the strange feeling of being empty after so long. Limbs like butter, Hinata melts into the sheets, unable to move as his heart rate gradually begins to slow.

Atsumu kisses Hinata’s neck, licking a stripe up his ear. “Fuck, you’re a hot mess now, huh? Probably should get you clean before you ruin the bed,” he laughs.

Osamu huffs, curling closer to Hinata as he continues to guide Hinata’s hand on his dick. “Shut up, would you?” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to Hinata’s forehead. His voice drops, softer, as he looks Hinata in the eye. “That’s it, Shouyou. Just like that.”

Mind beginning to clear, Hinata moves his hand faster, swallowing the lump in his throat as Osamu’s free hand combs through his hair. It comforts the part of him that wants to flee, lets him relax into the movements and the sounds of Osamu’s breath growing shorter as he works him faster. It’s sloppy and quick, and Hinata knows it can’t be his best, but the way Osamu murmurs _good_ on the tail end of a groan would make him believe anything. It doesn’t take long like that, focusing on the closeness of their bodies together, on Atsumu behind, stroking his bare hip, for Hinata to bring Osamu to release. 

The half second of silence before Hinata draws his cum covered hand from Osamu’s pants is perfect. He’s exhausted and sated and a mess, just as Atsumu said, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep then and there without consequence. He blinks his eyes open as Osamu throws back the covers, scooping him up into a bridal carry with one smooth motion as Atsumu cleans up what little mess he left behind.

“Won’t take long to wash up,” Osamu tells him as he walks to the adjoining washroom. “You can even rest while I do it.”

Hinata nods, already dozing off. His head lulls against Osamu’s chest, secure in the comfort of his arms, no matter what that might mean. He knows a few things for certain— he is safe. He is good. He is wanted.

He is wanted.

He is wanted.


	6. tidal break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS ITS BEEN A WHILE BUT IM GLAD THIS IS DONE!! i hope everyone's been staying safe during the pandemic!! i've had a run in (or two lmao) with covid but we're all good! i hope you all enjoy the chapter!!  
> \- mooks
> 
> —
> 
> hi guys, i appreciate all the support we've gotten these past months. i hope you all enjoy the chapter!  
> \- kj

The subtle drum of rain on the window sills lulls Hinata in and out of sleep. Mid afternoon naps are a luxury he can now afford, the most lonely time of day passed in a drift of sleep and the distant sound of voices. A warm hand on his forehead is what pulls him out of his rest, what gets him to blink open his eyes against the hazy light and fully bring himself to wakefulness. Osamu smiles down at him, eyelids bowed in fondness as Hinata reaches up to touch his hand. Behind him, Atsumu snickers, not unkindly, and comes to lean onto the back of the chaise lounge.

“Did we wake you, sleepin’ beauty?” he taunts. 

Hinata blushes without meaning to and shrugs. “I was just waiting for you to come back,” he tells them as he sits up. “You’re early,” he adds, unable to keep the excitement out of his tone.

Osamu hums. “Well, we thought we might break up the day a bit. You’ve been good, haven’t’cha?”

Pride blooms in Hinata’s chest as he ducks his head. “Thank you.”

“We didn’t do nothin’ yet,” Atsumu laughs. He folds himself over the chair, leveling his eyes with Hinata. The crown still rests heavy on his forehead, gold and rubies shining even with such dim skies. Hinata wonders what would happen if he told Atsumu how beautiful he looked like this, with a rich glint in his eyes to match his gemstones. He probably knows just from looking at him how Hinata feels. 

“We thought you might like to visit the library, since you’ve been readin’ so much,” Osamu says.

Hinata can’t be sure what he feels. His stomach twists, just fluttering as he stares at Osamu in search of some kind of lie in his face. “The library?” he repeats, turning to look at the bookshelf standing against the wall.

Atsumu hums, following Hinata’s gaze. “It’s real big. You should find a lot to read there— much better than that old thing,” he tells him. 

Hinata sits in shock, unsure what to say. He looks between Osamu and Atsumu in disbelief, mouthing around words that he can’t quite form. 

“Well? You comin’?” Atsumu asks him, pushing himself upright. “S’not like we have all day.”

A smile warms Hinata’s face and he nods enthusiastically, taking Osamu’s hand. He holds a robe in his other hand, heavier than anything else Hinata has had to wear. He slips it over Hinata’s shoulders, the long sleeves draping over his fingertips, the bottom skirt reaching the floor. Osamu clicks his tongue and turns to Atsumu with a scoff. 

“I told you it’d have to be hemmed,” he says, only for his brother to shrug.

Atsumu rolls his eyes and throws open the double doors to the chambers. “Not like it matters. Tie the waist and let's get goin’ already.” 

Osamu is quick with the bow, yet not sloppy, each ribbon draping nicely over Hinata’s hip. With one hand firmly placed on the small of Hinata’s back, he guides him from the chambers and out into the hall beyond. Hinata has only ever seen glimpses of what lies outside of their chambers as the twins come and go. The hall looks much the same as the rest of the castle, marble floors carpeted with a long, extravagantly woven rug down the centre. All of the drapes have been pulled open to let in the light from outside, windows running down the length of the hall. Though it is mainly devoid of people, soldiers in full uniform stand at either end, eyes averted, stance alert as they pass. Two take post in front of the chamber doors behind them. 

Atsumu leads them around a corner, where they’re faced with another set of double doors. A pair of nearby servants each rush forwards and hold them open, heads bowed in a moment of peaceful reverence Hinata can’t quite be sure isn’t fear. Hinata glances at their faces, looking for an answer to a question he doesn’t have. They pointedly refuse to acknowledge him, and close the doors the moment he’s led inside.

Everything leaves Hinata’s mind the moment he enters the library. Lofty windows let light drift down from the very tops of the walls, creating long shadows from each towering bookcase. The shelves line the back of a well furnished seating area with lounges and tables, but the distant curve of the arched ceiling tells of a much larger space behind. The glow of carefully secured lanterns makes every gold accent gleam, makes the rich leather bindings of each book’s spine shine with polish. Hinata’s own tongue fails him. Looking up, Hinata comes to understand just how massive the library is. The arched ceiling gives way to a tower at its centre, hollowed out and spiralling with books lining each side. The sliver-like windows allow just enough light in to mimic a gentle kind of daylight, just enough light to stream down and grace Hinata’s face. 

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Osamu says, sliding his hand up and down Hinata’s back. 

“Big,” Hinata replies, somewhat breathless.

Atsumu snorts. “That’s for sure. We used to play hide and seek in here with the maids when we were kids. The governess could never find us.” He turns his head, making eye contact with a pair of servants lingering from behind one of the shelves. They vanish as quickly as they appeared. 

Hinata pays them no mind, stepping deeper into the space. A small set of stairs leads down into the sitting area, the marble of each step making a soft _click_ as his sandals meet it. “I— I don’t know where to start. I haven’t read much before now,” he admits, still craning as if it is possible to take the entire library in at once.

“You can have any book you’d like,” Osamu tells him, slotting their hands together. “As long as you’re here with us, there ain’t nothin’ you can’t have.”

Hinata’s heart stutters the moment Osamu squeezes his hand, long, surprisingly calloused fingers engulfing his own. He turns to face him, letting the warmth of his delight simmer deep inside of him. The shock that he’s even been brought to another part of the palace has yet to wear off, and here Osamu is, smiling down at him as if he’s the only good left. 

“Can you pick a book?” Hinata asks, eyes flitting between Osamu and Atsumu. 

Osamu stops to think, humming. “Ain’t mythology on this floor?”

“I’ll grab it,” Atsumu says, wandering off into the stacks. He returns within a few minutes, holding a massive book under one arm. He carries over to one of the tables, setting it down with more care than Hinata has even seen Atsumu exhibit. Hinata moves closer, examining the cover. Gold leaf embellishes the spine, with its title carved into the deep red leather. _The Tale of the Twin Mages and More,_ the title reads. Hinata lets his fingertips dance over the letters before hooking around the sides to open the book.

“There are tons of stories in here, but they’re all ancient tales about the creation and founding of the country,” Atsumu explains with a wave of his hand. “It’s all myth at this point, but honouring what people used to believe nearly a thousand years ago is important. It’s the foundation of the Dynasty, really.”

Hinata settles into the lounge chair, bringing his feet up to sit cross legged. Silence falls over them as he reads a story of two humans blessed with magic and born with a curse, who warred with each other for centuries before finally establishing Inarizaki. Notes translating different versions of each tale detail the margins, with chapters including fairy tales and children’s stories that almost sound like something Hinata heard growing up. He lets himself be wrapped up in the mysticism, devours the fictional tales that weave themselves into truth. The transition from myth to history is seamless, the words washing over Hinata as the story unravels. Whenever a question arises, Osamu and Atsumu are quick to answer. They only ever leave his side one at a time, either to grab pens and ink and begin writing or to find a book to occupy themselves. 

“Here, look at this,” Osamu tells him, returning with a small stack. He places into Hinata’s hands a small scroll, tied with an elegant red ribbon. He pulls the bow loose and guides Hinata’s hand to roll out the scroll, revealing deep red calligraphy. “This is my favourite poet’s first collection. It’s the original— you should read it.”

The delicate parchment suddenly feels much weightier in Hinata’s hands. He glances up at Osamu, who smiles warmly down at him before combing a hand through his hair. Hinata’s eyes fall shut without thinking, leaning into the touch.

“I need to deal with court matters,” Osamu tells him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “‘Tsumu will stay with you.”

A whine bubbles up in Hinata’s chest without his meaning to. With lips quirked in amusement, Osamu ruffles his hair and casts a look over to his brother. What glance is exchanged between them, Hinata can’t quite see. All that’s there for him when Osamu steps to the side is Atsumu, grin loose as it spreads across his face. 

“Don’tcha worry. I’ll take good care of you,” Atsumu says. 

Hinata swallows cotton. It isn’t as if he dislikes Atsumu’s attention— in fact, his singular focus is a near drug Hinata spends most of his day craving. But Atsumu is intense. Being alone means sitting up straighter, being hyper aware of every movement he makes. With Osamu, he sinks into comfort, come what may. With Atsumu, he can’t help the feeling that if he makes one wrong move, he'll be swallowed whole.

Osamu presses one last kiss to Hinata’s forehead before making his way out of the library. Hinata watches him go with both a sense of longing and excitement. Atsumu has already slung himself over Hinata’s shoulders, close enough now that his warmth seeps through the relatively thin cover of Hinata’s robe. Hinata savours it for no other reason than the simple pleasure of being desired. 

“Awfully cuddly today, aren’t we?” Atsumu says, looking down on him. Hinata hadn’t even noticed how much he instinctively moved into Atsumu’s hold. He blushes, first from his ears, then down his cheeks and neck, vanishing under the folds of his robe. When he tries to move away, Atsumu raises a hand to his cheek, pushing his face back. “Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. I know you like it…”

Beaten, Hinata lets his gaze fall back down to his books and attempts to read, the words wash over him with little to no meaning. The longer he tries to pay attention, the longer he tries to ignore Atsumu, the more aware he becomes of every point of contact. Minutes had melded into hours without Hinata having noticed; whether that or some other reason is the inspiration behind Atsumu’s wandering hands, Hinata isn’t sure. He doesn’t have to understand in order to— in some corner of his mind that he refuses to acknowledge— enjoy Atsumu’s palm smoothing down the inside of his thigh. He parts the robe just barely, fingertips brushing bare skin.

“Atsumu,” Hinata whispers, suddenly aware of the distant footsteps within the library. They aren’t, afterall, truly alone.

“Wanna see something cool?” Atsumu murmurs, leaning closer. His lips brush the shell of Hinata’s ear. “I can show you where Osamu and I used to hide.”

Hinata swallows, already nodding. Even if there was a choice, no part of him wants to say no. His heart flutters with anticipation as Atsumu takes his hand and dwarfs it. Atsumu grips him without room to move, firm enough that Hinata can only follow. He weaves his smaller fingers between Atsumu’s and holds him with all of his might. Some part of him fears being left behind, even with Atsumu’s inescapable hold. The warmth provides assurance that Atsumu doesn’t want him anywhere else but here. 

Atsumu pulls Hinata through stacks of books. He leads Hinata up spiralling staircases at such a speed that Hinata’s head spins trying to distinguish right from left. It becomes a blur of books and marble and windows, of brilliant gold handles that his free hand can hardly grasp. Not once does Atsumu slow, only ever casting wry smiles over his shoulder when Hinata stumbles. 

Tucked away in the back of one of the upper floors, in between shelves packed so tightly with books they might overflow, is a small nook with a gap between two shelves large enough for both Atsumu and Hinata to squeeze into without problem. Once inside, there’s enough space to spread out at nearly arm’s length, but not much further. Hinata doesn’t bother pulling away, not when Atsumu makes every effort to pull him closer, wrapping both arms around his waist.

“Dunno what this is for. Maybe to access the books from the other side? But it’s awfully comfy, if you ask me,” Atsumu says. He takes a step forward, forcing Hinata’s back into the wall of books behind him. “No one ever comes by here. But they’ll hear you, if you’re too loud.”

Hinata gulps. With Atsumu this close, he has to crane his neck to look him in the eye, made helplessly small by both their proximity and natural differences. “Sh-should I whisper?” he asks.

Atsumu laughs, hands sliding down to rest over Hinata’s ass. “Maybe. Or maybe I can find another way to occupy that pretty mouth of yours.”

Hinata whimpers, hands fisting in Atsumu’s robes. He tips his chin up in anticipation for the kiss to come, eyes falling shut mere moments before Atsumu’s mouth meets his own. Tongue and teeth pry his lips open, messy and intimate as if no one in the world exists but them. Atsumu kisses him as if they were actually alone and not just hiding behind the walls of books. Hinata slides down the shelf, stopping once his crotch meets Atsumu’s knee. He grinds down against it without even thinking, already half hard and charged by the knowledge of what’s to come. 

“‘Tsumu…” Hinata whines. His lips slide over Atsumu’s, moans muffled by the kisses Atsumu continues to press onto him. Atsumu’s arms creep closer, caging him as one hand curls into Hinata’s hair. 

Atsumu’s tongue laves over the inside of Hinata’s mouth, silencing any other sound he may make. Once passionate, now feverish, his free hand slides up the cut of Hinata’s robe to feel his bare skin. It burns under his touch, sensation drawn to the surface of his skin by clever fingers. Trapped, Hinata grinds back down at Atsumu’s thigh. It’s all he can do, the only way he can channel the energy humming in his veins. Teeth dig into Hinata’s bottom lip, and the sharp bite of pain is nearly negligible. Atsumu makes it worth it either way.

Atsumu pulls away, breaking the kiss. “Fuck, you can’t keep quiet, can you? Still whinin’ even when you got my tongue down your throat? That ain’t enough? You want somethin’ else?”

Hinata squeezes his eyes closed. The noise that leaves him is broken, reedy and ragged. Atsumu laughs, licking his jaw. “On your knees,” he murmurs, voice dark in Hinata’s ear. His leg pulls away and the earth falls out from under Hinata in an instant. His head rushes with how fast he sinks to the ground, knees hitting the ground with a dull _thud._ There’s no mistaking what’s about to happen, what comes next. Atsumu pulls his cock from the confines of his trousers, and holds it in front of Hinata’s spit shined lips. Hinata doesn’t even have to think— he wraps his lips around the head just like he was taught.

Atsumu lets Hinata move on his own, hands resting in his hair without pushing or pulling. Hinata laps his tongue around the tip, flicking it over the slit as he reaches up to grab the base. It’s heavy on his tongue, swelling as Hinata begins to stroke it. Slowly, he brings his head closer to his hand, taking more of Atsumu’s length in. He’s rewarded with a greedy grip in his hair, one that twists and pulls at the roots.

“Fuck, you’re _eager,_ aren’t you?” Atsumu says. His voice is just shy of raspy, strained with his own surprise. “You just couldn’t wait to get my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours, huh?”

The sudden praise, tainted by Atsumu’s filthy mouth, stuns Hinata into inaction for just a moment. The whine buzzes on his lips, not quite heard but felt by both him and Atsumu. Hinata moves his hand a little faster, glancing up at Atsumu to see him grin, eyes half lidded. They squeeze shut when Hinata hollows out his cheeks, his hips pushing forwards. Hinata manages to take the extra inch without gagging, letting his breath puff out of his nose. He can’t make a fool of himself— not now, not with Atsumu smiling down at him like he’s made of gold. 

Sweat begins to bead at Hinata’s hairline, his heart rate growing faster. There’s no controlling the way he gets out of breath working his tongue around Atsumu’s dick. The more he takes, the shallower his breaths become. Trapped between Atsumu’s legs and the wall behind him, there isn’t even the idea of escape. Hinata can only push himself further, jaw opening wider still. 

Hinata works up a careful rhythm, bobbing his head back and forth along Atsumu’s length. He sucks on the head, humming in glee as Atsumu curls his hand into his hair. He keeps himself from gagging as he sinks back down, focusing wholly on trying to minimize the sound of his own wet mouth moving over Atsumu’s cock. Every muffled noise that dies somewhere on Hinata’s tongue drives Atsumu further towards his own undoing, smile growing dopey, growing wide. 

“Fuck, you really like this. Such a good little whore,” Atsumu murmurs. He pushes Hinata’s head further down, eyes widening when Hinata takes it with ease. “Gods, Shouyou, you’ve gotten so good at this. So good at taking cock.”

Hinata whimpers, eyes falling shut. He suppresses the flutter in his chest and the sudden clench in his throat, groaning when Atsumu’s dick threatens to go deeper. The resulting sound is so lewd that Hinata blushes all the way down his chest, his own dick twitching in a confused moment of embarrassment and lust combined. 

Atsumu moans, the tail end turning into a strained laugh. “We’ve really turned you into a filthy cockslut, huh?” Mean, cruel, adoring.

A broken keen breaks through the back of Hinata’s throat. There’s no moving now, not with Atsumu’s grip on his hair being tight enough to pull it out. Hinata can only whine, a pitiful sound, as Atsumu begins to roll his hips and force his cock into Hinata’s mouth at his own pace. 

Hinata gags once on his way down, catching himself as his nose presses against Atsumu’s pelvis. The head of Atsumu’s cock bumps against his throat, squeezes past his tongue and forces Hinata’s jaw even wider. Hinata tries to bob his head only for Atsumu to thrust back in, chasing the heat of his mouth. Hinata submits to the grip in his hair and the force of Atsumu’s hips, squinting through a halo of tears in his eyes to watch Atsumu curl over him. Strands of hair break free of the crown’s hold, hanging over his forehead, and the thin sheen of sweat on his golden skin makes him seem as if he’s glowing. He’s a sight for sore eyes that makes Hinata’s throat ache.

Hinata finds himself humming around Atsumu’s dick, spit dripping from the corners of his mouth. Above him, Atsumu curses, throwing his head back against the wall of books. He holds Hinata’s head at the base of his cock for a moment, panting up at the ceiling. A curse falls from his tongue. It could be in another language for all Hinata knows— he wouldn’t be able to make sense of it if he tried, not with Atsumu pressing so wholly into him.

The tears begin to mix with drool somewhere around his chin as Atsumu pulls back out, fucking Hinata’s mouth with growing intensity. The moment he catches sight of him, Hinata whimpers, already knowing what’s coming.

“You fuckin’ whore,” Atsumu rasps, smile near deranged. “You asked for this.”

Atsumu brackets one forearm on the shelves, supporting his weight as he snaps his hips forwards. If he can hear the broken sounds that Hinata makes with his mouth stuffed full of cock, he doesn’t mention them. Perhaps all he knows is the sweet vibration around his dick, the warmth and the wetness that engulfs him. Every inch of Hinata’s skin crawls with electricity, with the energy of a lightning strike to the chest. He doesn’t dare reach down to palm at his own cock, but the shift of Atsumu’s shin against him is already heaven. 

Hinata only knows Atsumu is close when the hand in his hair yanks him back, away from the base so only the first few inches rest on Hinata’s tongue. Hinata manages one last suck before Atsumu’s dick throbs, splashes cum over his tongue, shoots it down his throat. Hinata doesn’t stop to breathe, swallowing and swallowing until his mouth is full of it. It oozes from the sides of his mouth and dribbles over his chin, leaking down Atsumu’s now softening shaft as Hinata pulls away to salvage the rest. The moment Atsumu’s hand leaves his hair, Hinata surges forwards, lapping at his dick with his tongue as one hand runs through the mess, catching it before it drips onto the floor or Atsumu’s shoes. He’s careful not to work Atsumu too much as he sucks off the last of his release before turning to himself, licking the cum from his palm, his wrist. 

“Gods, Shouyou,” Atsumu huffs, grin dopey, palm smoothing down the back of his neck. “Looks like all that trainin’ paid off. Didn’t even hafta ask you to clean up after yourself.”

What Hinata means to be a pleased hum comes out as a strained whimper. His hands slip down Atsumu’s thighs, fisting in his pants as he shifts from side to side. The thin fabric of his robe does little to hide his dick. Atsumu’s gaze shifts down to stare at the tent it makes before his eyes slide back up to meet Hinata’s. He doesn’t want to ask, not when Atsumu’s grin has grown impossibly larger. Hinata doesn’t dare break his gaze as he rocks back and forth, waiting for Atsumu’s word.

“Aw, do you need me to make you cum? Such a slut you can’t even do it yourself?” Atsumu taunts in a whisper, reminding Hinata of where exactly they are.

A rush of heat floods Hinata’s cheeks, his own voice hushing in turn. “I—I thought I wasn’t allowed to—“

Atsumu chuckles. “Not without my permission.” When Hinata makes no move, Atsumu pushes one foot forwards, opening Hinata’s thigh. “Well? Get on with it, if you’re so desperate.” Hinata slips one hand through the part in his robe, and Atsumu clicks his tongue. “Over your clothes.”

Shame curls in Hinata’s throat as he follows Atsumu’s call, presses his hand down onto his covered cock. A soft gasp falls from his lips. Somehow, this feels worse, like it's more of a crime, to grind onto his palm instead of jerking himself bare in the library. It doesn't change the warmth that unfurls from deep inside of his gut as the sweet friction blooms. No matter how hard he bites his lip, little noises continue to slip through. Above him, Atsumu hums, his hands returning to pet Hinata’s hair. 

“You really can’t help it, huh? Makin’ all those noises while you get yourself off,” Atsumu says, voice still sharp even in his post orgasmic daze. 

Hinata flinches, cracking one eye open to look at Atsumu’s grin. He makes the perfect picture of smugness, his eyes lazy and tongue pressed against his teeth. His hands, capable of taking Hinata apart in mere moments, continue to comb through his hair, only ever massaging his scalp. 

“I betcha _want_ to get caught,” Atsumu tells him, and Hinata shudders, hips bucking up into his palm. “Bet you were thinkin’ ‘bout people seein’ you for the cocksleeve you are while you choked on my dick. You _wanted_ this.”

“Atsumu,” Hinata pleads, feeling his dick twitch as Atsumu’s words race to his core. 

Atsumu snickers. “What, is that not enough for you? You can’t even get yourself off, is that it? Need someone else to do it for you?” he sneers. _“Pathetic.”_

Hinata whines, pushing harder down only his neglected dick. With a huff, Atsumu reaches down and snatches Hinata’s arm, yanking it and him upwards in a show of impressive strength. A yelp bursts through Hinata, loud enough that they both freeze, pressed together and staring eye to eye. Caught between Atsumu and the wall, Hinata’s thighs tremble. Atsumu’s hips slot against his own, his thigh pushing apart Hinata's legs. The room is silent, save their panting, heavy breaths heard only by each other. Hinata holds back a pitiful moan as Atsumu stares down at him.

“That was close, Shouyou,” Atsumu says. His eyes glance down to where Hinata’s crotch mindlessly grinds against his thigh. Hinata realizes what he’s doing and looks away, embarrassed but somehow unable to stop. “But you wouldn’t have minded, hm? You _want_ to get caught, don’tcha?” 

If it were possible to jerk away in shock, Hinata would. But as close to the wall as he is, Hinata can only press closer to Atsumu and hold back a moan. Atsumu grabs his cheek and tips his face back up, capturing his lips in a wet, open mouthed kiss. Hinata lets his moans be muffled by Atsumu’s tongue as he humps his leg like a stray dog. Only when Atsumu reaches down to untie the rope holding his robe tight does Hinata break away, arching his back into the touch. Atsumu’s hand quickly finds a hold on his cock, squeezing hard enough that Hinata bites his own cheek. Once Atsumu works up a steady rhythm, it isn’t long before all Hinata can do is cling to his cape and beg under his breath. Moans puncture every sentence, and Hinata can hardly stay put even with Atsumu caging him in.

“Close already?” Atsumu asks after sucking a mark onto Hinata’s neck. Hinata nods, and Atsumu bites down on the freshly made bruise, earning another broken cry. “You’re this worked up from my cock in your mouth and my voice in your ear? Gonna cum just from that?”

“ _Yes—_ ” Hinata manages to choke out, feeling his orgasm crest. “Please, Atsumu, please let me, please—”

Atsumu laughs, quiet and wicked. “Okay Shouyou. Cum for me then, if you’re so desperate,” he whispers.

Atsumu’s permission is all Hinata needs. The coil inside of him snaps, his eyes screwing shut as he cums at Atsumu’s command. Atsumu slaps a hand over his mouth, muffling the drawn out cry before it can escape him. Cum drips down Hinata’s hip, sticking to the folds of the clothes Atsumu never bothered to remove. As Hinata comes down from his high, Atsumu pulls his cum slick hand back. His nose wrinkles as he brings it to his mouth, popping two fingers into his mouth and sucking the mess off. 

“Filthy,” he mutters, taking his hand away. He wipes the rest on the inside of Hinata’s robe with his smug look still stuck to his face. Hinata doesn’t want to think about the sight he must make, clothes disheveled and stained. He pries one hand away from Atsumu’s shirt, dragging it across his spit slick mouth. His jaw still aches, and his thighs still tremble as he manages to stand on his own. Atsumu huffs, laughter quiet as he ruffles Hinata’s hair with his clean hand. 

“Let’s get you back before anyone sees the mess you’ve made of yourself,” he tells Hinata, wrapping one arm around the small of his back. “And call for a meal. I’m _starved.”_

Hinata stifles a laugh, all worries faded into bliss. Atsumu slips him out of the nook, and back through the library. Atsumu and Osamu’s small world—now divulged to Hinata—blends into the hundreds of other shelves and books lining the walls. As the outing into the palace comes to an end, Hinata can only find himself content, looking forward to whatever meal he and Atsumu might share and the moments that come with it.

—

The soft pull of a hairbrush through Hinata’s hair lulls his eyes shut. He’s not tired, but the humidity drains what energy he did have earlier in the day. Osamu is careful not to tug at any knots, working through the strands with his fingers before letting the hair fall loose in its wild waves. Hinata enjoys the brush of Osamu’s fingertips against his scalp, the press of his chest to his back. Atsumu sits at the chaise lounge, across from the pair on the bed. He flips through a book absentmindedly, more often staring at his twin and Hinata than the page.

“Your hair has gotten quite long,” Osamu says, twirling one of the more springy locks around his finger. “It even curls. We’ll have to get you a trim soon.”

Hinata reaches up to feel his own hair. He’s never had it this long before, and though he enjoys the bounce of his waves, he’s always been one to welcome change.

“Once the rainy season ends, it’ll get much hotter,” Atsumu adds, finally setting the ignored book down. “You’ll want it shorter by then.”

Hinata perks up, bumping his head against the hairbrush. “O-oh! Okay.”

“Then it’s done. We won’t go too short for now, but… tidy it up,” Osamu says. He drops the brush, working his fingers through the strands instead. “You’ll look even lovelier.”

Hinata leans further into Osamu’s touch, humming as he flushes. Atsumu catches his moment of bashfulness and smirks. Before Hinata can look away, he purses his lips, making what Hinata can only assume is a mockery of a kissing face at him. “W-well, if you say so.”

“We’re never wrong, Shouyou,” Atsumu says with a grin. “Or at least _I’m_ not.”

Osamu rolls his eyes, muttering something about _when we were kids_ and _the heirloom vase._ Atsumu shoots him a look that Hinata would shudder to be on the receiving end of. Osamu scoffs, unbothered as he continues to play with Hinata’s hair. 

“Well, in the meantime, we can pull your hair up,” Osamu says, pulling Hinata’s hair off of his neck. “I think we have some ribbons that would make you look adorable. What do you think?”

Hinata blushes, Osamu’s breath brushing the back of his neck. Goosebumps rise on his skin as he glances back to stare at Osamu and his vexing smile. “I—I’d like that,” he tells him. 

Atsumu snorts. “Really, ‘Samu? _Ribbon_ bows?”

As Hinata stammers, his blush spreading to his neck, Osamu furrows his brows. “What? A few braids to pull the hair away from his face, tie them off with a bow… don’tcha think it’d look good?”

“Aw, like a little girl,” Atsumu coos, smile twisting as he sits up. “You’re lucky he dotes on you so much, Shouyou.”

Hinata squirms in Osamu’s lap, curling his forehead into his shoulder to avoid Atsumu’s lecherous smirk. Atsumu laughs in the way he always does, eyes curved into half crescent moons. It’s as Osamu drops Hinata’s hair and brushes his nose to the crown of Hinata’s head that a sharp knock sounds on the chamber doors, startling all of them. 

“Who’s there?” Atsumu calls, voice louder, stronger, tinted not by the lazy drawl he usually adopts. 

“Kita, your highnesses. May I enter?” 

Atsumu stands, back straight, proud. “Enter,” he says, walking past Hinata and tugging up his shawl as he does. 

Only one of the two double doors opens as a man steps through, guards flanking him on either side. They vanish with a wave from Atsumu, shutting the door behind the visitor. Kita stands tall, though slight, bearing the emblem of Inarizaki on the breast of a long black overcoat. He bows, if only to the waist, before stepping further into the chamber, eyes glossing over Hinata as if he weren’t there. 

Kita Shinsuke, Hinata recalls. The princes’ royal advisor. 

“Apologies for disturbin’ you,” he says, offering a slightly strained smile. 

Osamu hums, wrapping one arm around Hinata as he speaks. “Must be important if you’re botherin’ us at this hour.”

“Unfortunately,” Kita sighs. He pulls out an envelope from inside of his coat, extending it outwards. “A letter just arrived. For you both, from the king.”

Whatever carefree attitude hummed through the room snaps the moment Kita finishes speaking. Osamu’s hand pauses midway down Hinata’s back, his fingertips hovering on Hinata’s spine. Though Atsumu steps forwards to grab the letter, the tension in his body is unmistakable. He clenches his free hand into a fist, ripping the envelope out of Kita’s hands. 

“I’ll see you both tomorrow. Call me if you need.” Kita bows again, walking back towards the doors. He stops, hand resting on the handle, and looks back towards them. “Goodnight, and take care.”

As he opens the door, he catches Hinata’s gaze. Wide eyed, Hinata watches as he nods, bowing one last time before the guards close the door, locking it securely behind them. 

Hinata is slipped out of Osamu’s lap as Atsumu tears open the ornate wax seal, not bothering to save the envelope. Osamu leaves Hinata’s side to stand and read the letter over Atsumu’s shoulder. 

Each twin’s face unravels in stages. All of Osamu’s movements are small—his nose twitching, lips pursing before settling back into his usual apathy. Atsumu’s starts much the same way. His grip crumples the corners of the paper before his teeth begin to grind, eyes growing narrow and the skin of his forehead growing tight. Hinata finds something in that expression all too familiar—cruelty—tainted with something unfamiliar, a kind of pure unadulterated loathing that seeps like poison through the air. Hinata’s skin prickles, fear grabbing him as Atsumu grabs either corner of the page and tears it down the middle, throwing the pieces onto the ground. 

“Who does he think he is?!” Atsumu shouts, stomping his foot down onto the pieces. Osamu rests a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder only for it to be thrashed away, Atsumu jerking back from his brother’s touch as quickly as it came. 

“Who does he think he is?” Atsumu repeats, this time slower, each word drawn out as he turns to kick the edge of the bannister with a _bang._ Hinata flinches as the impact shakes the bed frame, but Atsumu doesn’t even spare him a second glance. “Acting as if he cares about _us_ more than a _rotting bitch—”_

“‘Tsumu—” Osamu warns. 

Atsumu throws up a hand. “Don’t act like you ain’t thinkin’ the same thing! _Fuck,_ why ain’t _you_ mad?! Wait, don’t answer that— you’re just gonna say _I know he’s wrong_ as if that changes what that _bitch_ did to you! To _us!”_

He spins around, cape fanning out behind him as he lunges for his desk. One swipe of his arm sends pens and ink clattering onto the floor, another kick sends his chair toppling onto its back. Hinata’s heart pounds as he clings to the quilt, watching Atsumu scream under his breath. Strands of hair break away to fall onto his forehead, heat staining his face with blotchy patches of red. Atsumu storms back across the room, past Osamu who follows a few paces behind, expression unreadable if not pinched. 

It’s when Atsumu stands face to face with the book shelf, arm raised to strike, that Osamu steps in once more. He grabs Atsumu by the wrist and wrenches him back, wrapping the other arm around his waist. Where Hinata expects Atsumu to struggle, he doesn’t. Osamu just rests his forehead against Atsumu’s back, holding him tight until Atsumu goes slack. Only then does Osamu step away, letting Atsumu drop his head and drop the fists held by his hands. His chest heaves as he catches his breath, swaying from side to side. 

Slowly, he turns back to face both Osamu and Hinata. Both hands raise to wipe at his eyes, a long shuddering breath breaking the otherwise deafening silence in the room. “I—I’ll be back,” he mutters, before darting out of the room. 

Hinata watches as he vanishes, door slamming shut behind him. It hits the frame in a crack like thunder, shaking Hinata’s bones. Osamu glances over to him in time to see Hinata cower, heart thumping against his chest. Rage is not uncommon with Atsumu, anger even less so. But what Hinata saw was something different, something that tore through him and Atsumu alike. 

“Oh, Shouyou,” Osamu says, voice hardly louder than a whisper. Hardly a second passes before he sits down on the bed beside him to pull Hinata back into his arms. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Hinata sniffles. He doesn’t tell Osamu that he’s felt worse, that this fear is for something other than himself, that only unhinged panic is what has him trembling against Osamu’s chest. “W-will Atsumu be alright?” 

Osamu sighs, leaning back slightly. He cups one hand to Hinata’s cheek, lifting his face off of his chest and up towards him. “He will,” Osamu tells him. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to Hinata’s forehead, lips lingering a moment before he pulls away. “I need to talk to ‘Tsumu, but we’ll both be back soon, okay? We just need to sort this out.”

Hinata nods, world moving as if underwater. Osamu brushing his tears away one last time before standing, leaving Hinata with an expression that could almost be called a smile. 

—

The sun has set by the time Atsumu and Osamu slide into bed beside Hinata. Drifting in and out of sleep, as he’s done over the past few hours in their absence, he watches the twins climb into bed, both ready for sleep. Through the haze of sleep still clinging to his eyes, Hinata glances over to Osamu, taking in the impassive expression tainted by a somber air that follows him. When he looks over to Atsumu, it's mere moments before Hinata is turned over onto his other side. Atsumu crawls under the covers and pulls Hinata closer, ice cold hands working their way around his back. Too tired to fight it, Hinata simply shivers into his touch, eyes taking in Atsumu’s appearance for the brief moment before he’s pulled into his chest. What dim light shines through the windows illuminates eyes slightly swollen, slightly red. His nose colours much the same. Before he can see anything else, Atsumu tucks him under his chin, arms winding tighter around him until Hinata can hear Atsumu’s heartbeat. 

No one speaks. Osamu traces his fingertips up and down Hinata’s spine, but makes no move to disturb Atsumu as he clings to Hinata like a lost child. Without will or want to fight it, Hinata closes his eyes, lulled back into sleep by each slow, deep rise and fall of Atsumu’s chest. Even the tickle from hair blown against his ear on an exhale doesn’t keep Hinata from nuzzling closer. Trapped in his arms, he succumbs to the world of dreams. 

—

To Hinata’s surprise and elation, the twins take him back to the library the next day. Though the air hangs heavy between the three of them, the hope that novels and old leather brings squashes the worry that Atsumu might explode at the slightest touch. Hinata lets himself curl up into Osamu’s side as they read a novel together, Osamu only flipping the page once Hinata has let him know it's okay to turn. Beside them, Atsumu scribbles out notes into a journal, the tip of his feathered quill tickling his chin with every scratch against the parchment. 

Comfortable silence engulfs them, a delicate kind, but soothing nonetheless. Through the many layers of Osamu’s finely woven clothes, Hinata can faintly hear the ever present _thump_ of his heart against his chest. The novel melts away, the words merging together as Hinata enjoys more the murmurs of Osamu, reading quietly to himself, than the story he tells. Soon, he’s staring at the cover, book finished, and their tiny pile already sorted through.

“Well, that one was a little short,” Osamu says, setting it down with the rest. “But there are a few others I think you might like. ‘Tsumu, come help me carry the books.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes, setting down his notes. “What, can’t get them yourself?” he sneers. Osamu continues to stare at him, gesturing to the last pile he brought to the table. It very nearly filled the entire surface. “Fine. We’ll be back in a moment, Shouyou.”

The first thing Hinata feels is a rush of cold in his stomach. Icy tendrils curl around his chest as stares at the twins, unbelieving. Osamu pries each rigid finger from where he had gripped his cloak, kissing his knuckles once before standing. “It won’t be long. If something happens, wave over one of the maids.” He smiles, brushes the back of his hand across Hinata’s cheek. “I know you’ll be good.”

Hinata unravels, exhaling into Osamu’s touch. He finds himself nodding, even as fear continues to grip him. He doesn’t miss the way Atsumu’s eyes follow him as the twins disappear into the stacks, the way they darken with familiarity. Alone in a library as large as a labyrinth, Hinata’s eyes drift over to the oak doors he entered from. They’re closed, but not locked. Maids slip in and out, lifting their skirts and politely bowing to him as they pass. Nothing, not one person, stands between him and those double doors.

_He could run away._

_He could run away and never look back._

Hinata shakes his head, banishing the thoughts from his spinning mind and pounding heart. They’d catch him, he knows that. They’d catch him and pull him back kicking and screaming and begging down, down, down into—

“Sara! Watch where you’re dustin’, you almost knocked those books over!” one of the maids hisses. Hinata jumps at the sudden noise, turning to the bookshelf directly behind him. Through the gaps in rows of books, he can faintly make out black and white uniforms and a flash of feathers. 

“Sorry, sorry! You know I’m usually not in here— I’m coverin’ for Yui while she’s sick,” another voice says. Either the women haven’t noticed Hinata on the other side of the shelves, or don’t mind speaking in his presence. He supposes that there's little reverence reserved for someone like him, unlike the twins he’s always with.

 _Almost_ always.

“Keep your wits about you— the princes are somewhere in here. Wouldn’t want today to be your last.”

Sara sighs. “They’re quite nice to look at, ain’t they? And charmin’ too. Osamu smiled at me when I came in. At least, I think it was at me. What kind men, dont’cha think, Akari?”

The other maid hums. “Well, I don’t make a habit of chattin’ with any of them, but they’re surely a sight for sore eyes.”

Giggles erupt from the other side of the shelf as Hinata turns, inching closer to the books to hear their conversation. “Ah, it almost feels bad to laugh. The anniversary of Her Majesty’s death is so soon. How kind of the princes to let their father mourn in peace for all these years…”

Hinata’s ear twitches. While the Queen’s death is common knowledge, he’s yet to hear her mentioned by anyone in the castle— up until the night before. He scans the room for any sign of the twins before climbing over the couch and creeping closer, listening in on the maids as they continue.

“You weren’t workin’ when she was alive, were you?” Akari says, her voice hushed. “Course not, you’re too young. Her majesty was always doting on his highness, Atsumu, but y’know, I don’t think I _ever_ saw her take Prince Osamu anywhere. Not even to the gardens.”

“What? _Really?”_

“Mhm, and that’s not the half of it. I hear her death was covered up.”

Hinata bristles, holding his breath. Not one piece of intelligence he found suggested the Queen’s death was anything but a tragic illness, and yet here he stands, listening to a pair of maids conspire behind a wall of books.

“Who in their right mind says that?” Sara asks, voicing the question on the tip of Hinata’s tongue.

“Well, half the staff! My old superior, she retired before you joined, she had to clean up the room where she died. And I was told that there was a _noose_ left behind.”

Hinata steps back from the shelf, climbing back onto the couch as Sara continues. “That’s horrible—no wonder the King lives in near solitude. But why leave the boys here, all alone? They must’ve been so young.”

Footsteps echo along the marble floors, and Hinata looks up to see both the twins approaching with books in hand. His eyes widen, a part of him wanting to reach out and hush the two maids, who continue to chatter without knowing who approaches.

“I don’t know, Sara, because I heard that they—”

Atsumu slams his fist on the stud of the bookcase, the loud _bang_ echoing throughout the otherwise silent library. A sharp yelp follows, muffled by what Hinata can only guess is one of the other maids. Atsumu’s temper returns in the form of a clenched jaw and tight fists, gaze fixed on the line in the wood. Osamu doesn’t bother to calm him this time around, setting down his books before sitting down at Hinata’s side. 

“Good boy,” Osamu says, lips brushing Hinata’s ear as he moves to kiss his forehead. Hinata relaxes slightly, comforted by the warmth of Osamu’s hold around him. 

“I’m leavin’ to finish this up in my study,” Atsumu says, no small amount of venom in his voice. He looks at neither Hinata or Osamu as he gathers his things, lips pursed into a straight line. He makes his way to the doors without another word, head held high and footsteps deafening in the now silent room. Hinata curls closer to Osamu, leaning into his touch in an effort to sate the twinge of guilt in the back of his throat. 

“He—he’s gonna be okay, right?” Hinata asks Osamu, keeping his voice low. The maids have scurried over somewhere else, no chatter or rustling to be heard. He and Osamu are truly alone now. 

Osamu nods and picks up a book from those he had gathered. “It’s alright. ‘Tsumu just needs some time to himself, is all.”

Hinata takes Osamu’s word. Whether lying or telling the truth, he remains the one who knows Atsumu best. Besides, there’s no reason for him to lie to Hinata. Not now, not when he sits docile in his lap. 

_Right?_

Osamu strokes a hand up his back. _Of course not._

_—_

After taking a small meal in the library surrounded by books and each other, Osamu leads Hinata back to their chambers. A light drizzle drums against the windows, hiding the sun that otherwise peaked out from the clouds that day. Osamu matches his long strides to Hinata’s smaller ones, taking his time as they stroll with his hand on Hinata’s back. As they reach the double chamber doors, Osamu kisses the top of Hinata’s head. 

“I gotta get to work,” he tells him, unlocking the door and guiding Hinata inside. 

Hinata frowns, stopping only a few feet from the entrance. “We just got here,” he says, glancing over to where Atsumu sits at his desk. He’s moved to look at them, a stack of papers held in one hand. 

“Well, ‘Tsumu has spent the last few hours workin’. It’s only fair if I finish up for him,” Osamu responds. He strolls to his brother’s side, taking the papers from his outstretched hand. “I’ll bring up your points with Kita. Take a break.”

“Thanks,” Atsumu mumbles, sulking back into his chair. 

Hinata wanders in further, meeting Osamu halfway through the room. The warmth of his smile lets some of Hinata’s apprehension seep away, even as he moves past him, exiting the same way they came. His gaze lingers on Osamu, fixed on the doors even after he’s gone. The air between them hasn’t yet cleared, still tense from the strange happenings from the day before. The twin’s troubles always felt distant, untouchable. Yesterday proved there's no separation between Hinata and them at all.

It isn’t until Atsumu wraps his arms around Hinata’s waist that he’s pulled from his thoughts. His chin settles onto Hinata’s shoulder, cheek pressed along his neck. 

“Feel like I hardly saw you today,” Atsumu says, squeezing him a little tighter. 

“I— I’m sorry,” Hinata stammers, unsure of what else to say.

Atsumu exhales, warm and heavy against his skin. He rubs his nose along Hinata’s neck, lips ghosting his pulse point. “Make it up to me,” he says, the words spoken in a hot rush of air that leaves Hinata’s hair standing on end.

His hold loosens and Hinata twists in his arms, turning to face him. He doesn’t have to crane his head, Atsumu already leaning down to press their lips together. It’s not what Hinata’s expected. Atsumu doesn’t pry open his mouth and swipe in his tongue, doesn’t devour him in a matter of moments. Instead, he presses so tight that Hinata forgets to breathe, all the air in the room swept into Atsumu’s mouth. His hands squeeze Hinata’s hips so tight it hurts, so tight Hinata can’t think of pulling away. Atsumu just kisses him, and kisses him, and keeps kissing him, until Hinata gasps and sucks in a breath.

Atsumu’s hands claw at Hinata’s robe, pulling it off of his shoulder to expose the dress underneath. He pushes the straps aside, exposes as much of his collarbones as he can. When Atsumu bites down into the supple flesh, Hinata can only tip his head back and moan, barring already bruised skin for him to mar. Atsumu mouths over his own marks, biting tender skin until Hinata gasps at the shock of pain. Licking all the way up to his ear, Atsumu bites down on Hinata’s lobe and works his tongue over Hinata's ear.

“I wanna fuck you,” he rasps, digging his fingertips into Hinata’s waist. 

Hinata’s breath catches in his throat. His ears burn with desire, fueled by the low, gravelly tones of Atsumu’s voice. It’s the closest he’s ever come to asking, and Atsumu never asks. Confusion folds into Hinata more and more, amplified with each second that passes by that Atsumu doesn’t just _take._ “A—Atsumu—”

Whatever words he meant to say die on his tongue the second that Atsumu crashes their mouths together once more. Their teeth clack in an uncoordinated effort for Atsumu to be closer than possible, pushing against Hinata hard enough that he stumbles. All of the skill and grace Hinata has come to expect from Atsumu vanishes. In a tangle of lips and limbs, they fall back onto the bed. Pressed close like this, Atsumu’s tenting crotch pokes into Hinata’s thigh, making apparent just how wound up he’s gotten. Hinata falls slack against the bed and parts his legs, swept up by another kiss. 

Time melts away as Atsumu bites Hinata’s lip and sucks it between his teeth. There’s an urgency in Atsumu’s hands as he pulls away Hinata’s robe without any care for the fabric, rucks the skirt of his dress up and pushes it over his head. Hinata drowns in the fabric, grounded only by the hands gripping his hips and the mouth latching onto his chest. The twins gave him the mercy to wear undergarments today—Hinata doesn’t doubt it’s only because they went to the library again. The thin, sheer panties are quickly done away with, catching on Hinata’s ankles as Atsumu shoves them as far down as they’ll go before slotting a knee between his thighs. Hinata kicks them off, rutting his half hard dick against Atsumu as he does so.

Atsumu kisses his way back across Hinata’s chest, up his neck, over one cheek. He doesn’t bother reaching for Hinata’s dick, hands occupied as they run up and down Hinata’s thighs. Atsumu isn’t wearing much—a silk shirt and trousers, other finery already discarded—and yet the heat of his skin radiates through the fine clothes. Emboldened, Hinata runs his hands up Atsumu’s back and untucks his shirt, careful not to move too quickly. Never would he consider moving first around Atsumu, but they’ve both been out of character today. He feels the warmth of bare skin against his trembling fingertips, the planes of Atsumu’s back rising and falling like waves at sea. To his surprise, Atsumu doesn’t bat his hands away or pin him back down to the mattress. He only groans, grinding his clothed dick against Hinata’s bare one, kissing him once more.

Their kisses grow deeper, less sloppy with every brush of their lips. Atsumu’s tongue moves against Hinata’s and leaves him breathless, sweeter than the molasses and just as slow. Hinata is struck by Atsumu’s insistence, the tidal force behind every motion. When Atsumu pulls away, it's to the sight of Hinata hazed by his own blush, whining at the loss of touch.

“Good,” Atsumu mumbles, hands working his belt. “Need me...” Hinata blinks twice as Atsumu comes into clarity— lip caught between his teeth, hands tearing at his own clothes to get them off. One button pops from his shirt and rolls somewhere onto the bed. Neither reach for it. Atsumu just sits up and shimmies out of his pants, grabbing the bottle of oil while he’s up. 

Atsumu settles back down between Hinata’s legs. One hand reaches behind his thigh and lifts, hoisting it up onto his shoulder. Hinata bends with ease, blushing at how easily his body opens up for Atsumu. Hinata rests the crook of his knee onto Atsumu and lets his broad shoulders bear the weight of every emotion running through him: confusion, desire, embarrassment, anticipation. Atsumu presses two oiled fingers at his entrance and pushes in. The stretch doesn’t come as easy as it usually does—it’s been a good few days since either twin has fucked him. By now, he’s used to the discomfort of the first few minutes of stretching, the twinge of pain as Atsumu pumps his fingers in and out. 

Despite how quick he moves to spread Hinata open, he isn’t mean. Atsumu bites at his neck, laps at each new bruise he leaves. Hinata’s pain melts away with every minute that passes and every brush of Atsumu’s fingertips to his prostate. His cock twitches as he lets out a moan, reaching for Atsumu’s back. All of the tension bleeds out of Hinata and onto the sheets. He squirms when a third pushes past his rim without resistance, having already been worked open under Atsumu’s ministrations. 

Atsumu leans his cheek onto Hinata’s leg, thrusts his fingers a little deeper. Hinata takes him down to the last knuckles and melts as Atsumu’s fingertips plunge against the nerves deep inside him. What remains of the apprehension falls away as pure lust takes over. As hard as Hinata tries, he’ll always remain malleable, like clay in Atsumu’s hands. Hinata’s back lifts off of the bed as Atsumu curls his fingers inside of him, his dick twitching against his stomach. He writhes the more Atsumu strokes at his walls. Lips touch the crook of his knee, kissing and sucking a strange kind of bruise that Hinata would normally bring to attention. There’s no place for that now, not when the moment has wound itself so tightly that it threatens to snap. 

“Atsumu,” Hinata gasps, squirming on his fingers. “Atsumu—”

Atsumu lifts his head and stares down at him with eyes blown wide. Lips spit shined, chest heaving, he looks half the mess that Hinata is. “What?” he asks, voice rough. 

Hinata moans, and says the only thing he can think of to get them what they both want. _“Please.”_

Not one to linger when his job is already done, he pulls his fingers out from Hinata’s hole. The sudden emptiness leaves Hinata twitching, embarrassed at his own state of indecency. There’s no closing his legs, not when Atsumu forces his leg into a deeper bend as he leans forwards. Hinata glances between their bodies to look at Atsumu’s cock, an angry shade of red that almost rivals Hinata’s full body flush. His moan is mortifyingly loud as Atsumu pours oil into one hand and strokes it. But Atsumu doesn’t comment, doesn’t tease him for his wanton display of neediness at the thought of getting fucked. He just leans forwards, lines up with Hinata’s hole, and pushes in.

Atsumu moves slow enough that Hinata feels every inch stretch him open, split him wide. Hinata’s jaw goes slack, eyes rolling back at Atsumu finally bottoms out, their hips pressed flush together. Atsumu leans down, testing the limits of Hinata’s flexibility as he buries his head into the crook of Hinata’s shoulder. Hot breath fans out over Hinata’s ear, Atsumu’s cock throbbing inside of him. It elicits a whimper from him, makes Hinata dig his fingers into the sculpted muscles of Atsumu’s back. When Atsumu begins to pull out, Hinata lets his eyes fall shut and succumbs to sensation. 

Atsumu works up to a steady rhythm, fucks Hinata not fast, but deep. His head hangs heavy over Hinata’s, bangs curtaining one eye and half sticking to his forehead. The ends tickle Hinata’s cheeks as he rocks forwards into him. The scent of sweat clings to the air. Hinata can feel the beads on Atsumu’s back, spread across golden skin as he drags his fingertips down, down, down. It’s overwhelming, not because of the pace, but because of the sheer intensity of every move Atsumu takes. His face burns nearly as much as the stretch in his leg as Atsumu pushes him further, drives himself deeper and deeper inside. 

Atsumu hisses as Hinata’s nails rake down his back. It’s a mindless motion, one that Hinata does out of the need to hold on more than anything else. He grasps at Atsumu’s shoulders in an attempt to tug him down towards Hinata’s face, but Atsumu stays put, arms bracketing Hinata’s head. Atsumu thrusts up against Hinata just in time for all thought to vanish, for language to be reduced to _yes_ and _‘Tsumu_ and _please._ Hinata stops caring about whether or not his nails are leaving marks when Atsumu hits that place deep inside and sends Hinata’s head pressing back against the pillows.

Somewhere under the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears, Hinata hears himself moan, but his unabashed cries fall deaf on Atsumu’s ears. Low grunts and moans fall from Atsumu above him, but amidst the all cathartic sensations of being fucked deep and good, Hinata can’t help but notice what isn’t there. Atsumu grunts and groans but doesn’t praise, doesn’t demean. As Hinata struggles past the desire clouding his mind, he tries to remember the last time Atsumu said anything at all. 

_“Fuck,_ Shouyou,” he says, voice finally coming to him. Hinata shudders at the praise he always craves, but doesn’t miss the pinched tone. Concern begins to worm itself forward from the back of Hinata’s mind, because as great as Atsumu feels inside of him, he can’t help but shake the feeling that something is _wrong._

Compelled by his realization, Hinata peeks through his lashes and takes in the sight above him. Atsumu's eyes are still squeezed shut, his brows pressed tight together. Hinata removes one hand from his back and smooths it over the clenched muscle of his jaw, feels it twitch, shift. The touch shocks Atsumu’s lids open, but his gaze takes a moment to focus on Hinata before steeling over.

“Atsumu?” Hinata whispers, his voice trembling with the effort it takes to keep quiet. 

The room grows silent, save their laboured breaths. The silence tells Hinata he’s gone too far, and yet he’s met with the same unflinching stare. No violence. No cruelty. Just the depths of golden eyes staring through him. 

The last thing Hinata sees is Atsumu’s shoulder’s flex as a sharp inhale expands his chest. Atsumu pulls back, grabs Hinata by the leg and pushes it to the side. The momentum rolls Hinata over onto his stomach, face planting firmly into the pillows as he just barely manages to get his arms under himself. It’s not for long, as Atsumu presses one palm to the centre of his back and shoves down, flattening Hinata’s chest to the bed. His arms splay out, and Atsumu is quick to grab either wrist and place them on the pillow above his head, holding him down with one hand. The grip is familiar, painful, leaves Hinata gasping as he turns his head to the side just in time for Atsumu to lift his hips and thrust back inside. 

There’s no squirming, no writhing, no movement possible when Atsumu holds him like this. He returns to nearly the same pace as before, but manages to rock deeper into Hinata. Hinata lets his body go lax, takes all that Atsumu gives him. If this is the only way he can help, then so be it. He’ll be smothered by the pillows and die a thousand little deaths just to know that Atsumu is here, buried deep inside him, that Atsumu _needs_ him for something. And despite everything, it still feels good to be held down and fucked. 

And fuck him, Atsumu does. Bent over like this, face down and ass up, Atsumu hits deeper than before. It makes up for the timing, which grows more and more erratic as time slips on. Hinata sighs into his pillow, cries out when Atsumu’s dick touches his prostate and whines when it misses. Atsumu’s breath swells on the back of Hinata’s neck as he leans down. Heart pounding, Hinata listens for every half groan, revelling in how it rumbles through his back. Draped over him so completely, Atsumu moves like he’s merging them into one, like he’s trying to force himself into the lining of Hinata’s being. He could, if he wanted to. He could, and Hinata would let him.

Atsumu ducks down, lips ghosting the outside of Hinata’s ear. Hinata tilts his cheek as best he can, intent on pressing their faces together even when Atsumu moves away. Instead, Hinata lets himself sag back onto the pillow, limp and waiting for Atsumu’s lips to brush across his back. When they do, and when Atsumu’s forehead weighs heavy on his spine, Hinata curls his toes. Atsumu throbs inside of him, cock ramming deeper and deeper with each thrust. But through the shocks of pleasure, the thrum of desire in his veins, Hinata feels something cool sear his bearing skin. Something that slips down his shoulder blades, drips onto his back.

Atsumu inhales, sharp, strangled. _Oh,_ Hinata realizes. _He’s crying._

Hinata’s chest winds tight at the pitiful sound, Atsumu’s tears confirming how wrong things are. But Atsumu doesn’t stop rocking into him, driving into Hinata with a single minded devotion that drives Hinata closer to the edge. Hinata’s mouth works around a word he can’t say, broken noises taking the place of worries and concerns. It’s when he says Atsumu’s name— broken, breathless, on the tail end of a cry— that Atsumu pistons his hips so hard that Hinata’s eyes roll back as his orgasm hits him. As the last bit of energy leaves him, he collapses into the mess of his own cum, still shuddering through the aftershocks. Atsumu doesn’t stop until he spills, biting down on Hinata’s shoulder to stifle a noise Hinata can still hear. 

Atsumu makes no move to roll off of Hinata after he’s finished, and Hinata doesn’t make him. They catch their breaths, still panting, neither speaking as their heart rates slow. Minutes pass before Atsumu pulls out and falls to the side. His arms wind around Hinata’s waist, pulling him into his chest. Too tired to move, Hinata lets himself be held.

After everything, Atsumu was the one who needed help in the end. Hinata swears his back still burns with the sting of Atsumu’s tears. Hinata’s mind begins to clear from the post-orgasmic haze, replaced with a sense of guilt heavier than anything he’s ever felt. How could he ever think of running away? And if he had left, would he even know the depths of Atsumu’s pain— a pain Hinata never stopped to consider, a pain so deep that Hinata hesitates to even soothe it? 

Atsumu’s breath evens out, sleep quickly taking over. Hinata curls into himself, closes his eyes, and wills for a forgiveness he doesn’t deserve.

—

“Shouyou,” a low voice mumbles. “Shouyou, c’mon now. Let’s get you up.”

Hinata rolls onto his back, away from one warmth and into another. He sighs as a hand comes to his shoulder, nudging it with enough force that Hinata’s cheek falls onto the palm. The cool skin chills him from his strange, half dream-like state. Hinata blinks open his eyes, focusing on Osamu’s face. He smiles down at Hinata and strokes his cheek, pinching slightly when Hinata’s eyes drift close.

“Awake now, are we?” Osamu asks. “Look at you—you’re all dirty.”

Hinata pushes up onto his elbows, wincing slightly as he stares at the dried cum on his abdomen. Osamu smirks, looking over to where Atsumu lies still dead to the world. He prods his brother’s shoulder, snorting when the only reaction he gets is a snore.

“He did quite a number on you, hm?” Osamu says, turning back to Hinata just in time to watch him blush. “Alright. Up we go— let’s get cleaned up.”

Hinata grips Osamu’s arm and rises to a seat, careful not to jostle Atsumu when he kicks off the covers. Osamu scoops him up into a hold Hinata has grown familiar with, one arm on his back and the other under his legs. A princess carry, done by his prince. They enter the bathroom, where the water has already been drawn in one of the many tubs. Some lie sunken into the floor, with glorious mosaic tiling along the edges. A few smaller basins, ones better suited for a single person’s use, rise above the floor. Osamu leads him to one such tub and lowers him into the water, letting Hinata settle inch by inch. Small aches and pains dissolve into the bathwater, absorbed into the oils that float around him. Osamu busies himself by gathering the soaps needed to rub Hinata down, sleeves already rolled up to the elbows and regal cape discarded. 

Though Osamu often takes the task of bathing Hinata upon himself, they usually do it together. Hinata doesn’t mind this, however, enjoying the way he can lie back in the tub as Osamu works his hands across his shoulders. The soft scent of chamolline wafts through the air, and slowly, the mess fades away, until all that’s left are bruises and the memory of tears staining his back. 

“O-Osamu?” Hinata asks, his voice echoing slightly across the baths.

“What is it?” Osamu says. He sets back his cloth and leans his elbows onto the edge of the tub, bringing their faces closer together. 

“I… It’s Atsumu. I’ve never seen him… act like he did today,” Hinata says. “I know you said he’d be okay but I— I worry.”

Osamu stares at him, unmoving as he contemplates Hinata’s words. “Worried,” he echoes, drawing a fingertip along the ledge. “Well, I guess you would be, after today.”

Another moment passes in silence as Osamu begins to stroke Hinata’s back. “‘Tsumu hates our dad. That man is nothing more than _the king_ to him _._ The letter was a reminder of that fact.”

Hinata shudders as Osamu’s fingertips brush upon a bruise near his neck. “And… and to you? Who is he to you?”

Osamu slides his hand to Hinata’s jaw, tipping his head back. Kissing Hinata’s forehead, Osamu shuts his eyes, cradling Hinata’s head for a moment before pulling away with a smile. 

“Nobody,” Osamu replies, his pupils dark and eyes wide. “Just another man.” 

Hinata stares at Osamu, unease fighting with fondness as he continues to smile. Nothing about Osamu’s posture, his almost lazy drawl, or his softened gaze suggests he’s tense, nor does it suppose he might be forcing a change in subject. Hinata would press if not for how simply _content_ Osamu appears, no different than any other evening shared in the baths.

“I think you’re ready for bed now. Come on, let’s get going,” Osamu tells him. 

Osamu takes his time drying Hinata off and finding a proper slip for him to wear to bed. The bath oils still cling to his skin, luring him into a state of drowsiness only combated by the part of his mind that searches Osamu for a sign of distress. None exist. He brings Hinata back to their bed, unbothered and relaxed as he changes out of his clothes, quiet, but not brooding. He and Atsumu have never been more clearly separate than they are now in their behaviour and reactions. Hinata looks from one face to another and searches for the pain he saw in Atsumu in his brother, and finds only gentle eyes and wandering hands. Osamu lies down beside him and kisses his cheek, letting Hinata curl up to his chest while Atsumu drapes an arm over Hinata’s waist. After all of that, he’s yet to wake up.

“You’re our treasure, Shouyou,” Osamu says, working his fingers into Hinata’s hair. “Ours. And whatever you need, I can find. We want only the best for our favourite gem.”

Hinata bites his lip, hesitant to fall fully into Osamu’s words. “What if I want to… to help you? To take away the hurt?”

Hinata glances up to see Osamu’s reaction. With a curved smile and a gentle sigh, Osamu cups Hinata’s cheek, looking down on him with the reverence of the gods.

“You do, Shouyou. You do.”

**Author's Note:**

> ### wanna talk to us or ask us questions about any of our projects or find out how to read chapters early? you can find us at [@mookzymooks](https://twitter.com/mookzymooks) and [@lesbianiwaizumi](https://twitter.com/lesbianiwaizumi) on twitter.


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